Tinker, Tailer, Beggarman, Thief
by shywr1ter
Summary: ANOTHER CHALLENGE RESPONSE! Sim.r brings us back to this challenge with her answer to Logan's question. She joins Blue Angel 137, Mari 83, Reilynn, Lilmouse, RT4ever, and Shywr1ter in this ML, S1 reply collection.
1. Challenge: WWMD?

_**Disclaimer: No rights, ownership or other interest here in Dark Angel or its characters; no profits made. **_

_**A/N: This is written to set a challenge, to be explained below and in further detail at Forums/TV Shows/Dark Angel/Blah Blah Woof Woof/Interactive Fiction. Everyone please jump in!**_

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

**Tinker, Tailor, Beggar-man, Thief.**

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_Tinker, tailor,  
Soldier, sailor,  
Rich man, poor man,  
Beggar-man, thief._

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

"Logan, he's hopeless! I mean, I love him; in a weird, sad sort of way, I love him. How can I help it, he needs someone to care about him, he's such a mess." Max leaned on the counter as she watched Logan blending the ingredients for a sauce he would use to stir-fry the vegetables she had cleaned and cut to his specifications. She had come in not long before, as he'd begun his preparations for their dinner, and she was regaling him with Sketchy's latest, inept antics. Now she laughed, shaking her head at the thought of her hapless co-worker. "It's not like he doesn't change his mind a couple times a day about what he's going to do to get away from Jam Pony – he's had more hare-brained schemes and ideas than anyone I know. And he keeps going back to this 'investigative reporter' idea. He loves your work, and talks about your articles for weeks after they've run. But he's like a little kid when it comes to Eyes Only. He's made you his mentor, convinced he can roust out crime and corruption, fighting side by side with his hero. And, because he's decided that he sees more and learns more as a messenger than most people do, he figures he can get all the big scoops that way. He's going to write about them, save the city _and_ retire when he's thirty."

Logan snorted, "Well, I don't know about the 'retire' part – but at least he's got the right enthusiasm." Logan grinned, the thought of Sketchy as a side-kick too comic to imagine properly. After another moment, he added, more realistically, "You probably do have access to more people and places than ninety five percent of the city does. I seem to remember you admitting that was part of what attracted you to the job in the first place."

Max nodded with a smirk. "That, and the fact that Normal didn't exactly expect a resume."

Logan looked up, considering Max, suddenly chewing on some new thought. "It's been pretty convenient for Eyes Only, your having such easy access around town. Your ID, and the fact that some of the sector police are used to seeing you around with the ID and know it's legit..."

"You're saying maybe Sketchy has something, the use of the job for his own, ulterior motives?" Max's eyes twinkled as she asked him, as if in challenge.

But Logan shook his head, the thought taking over. "No, it just made me wonder..." He stopped working, watching her closely, something new in his expression now. "If it wasn't such a help for Eyes Only – would you still be working there?"

She blinked, not getting it. "You have a better idea for how I keep my bike in oil and gas? 'Cos I _know_ you weren't too crazy about my other revenue-producing activities ... even if it did hook us up."

At her words, Logan colored a little, both at the jab at his stuffy disapproval of her more larcenous activities, as well as his blatant use – and appreciation – of them. "That wasn't exactly my line of thought – but close enough." His grudging smile was rueful. "Actually, I ... well, I know how thankless it can be, the way Normal treats you all, let alone some of the customers ... out in whatever weather comes along, in the traffic and all the grime of the city... I just..." He paused. "I wondered if you might have left by now, figured out something else to do."

And Max got it: he was feeling some guilt to think that she stayed at the job only because he wanted her to stay, to use it as a convenient cover for her activities assigned by Eyes Only. She felt a smile grow, amused and touched that it took this long for the idea to occur to him, and that once it did, how much it seemed to matter to him. She shrugged, looking to blow it off. "What else would I do? It's not as if I have a Yale degree to wave under anyone's nose."

"Are you kidding?" Logan looked a bit surprised. "Max, you know as well as I do how much you can do. And I've never seen anyone who's such a fast study; I would think you could pick up easily anything you decided you wanted to try." Again he looked at her, a question there. "What _would_ you do, if it could be anything?"

Again, she shrugged; this time she wouldn't make eye contact. "Ride a bike for Normal. It's my life's dream." Her voice had flattened slightly, the issue not an easy one, given the givens. She knew why he was asking – but no matter his motives, or his genuine concern – it didn't change her reality. Logan was the dreamer ... and the trust-fund boy. And he hadn't yet learned that sometimes it hurt more to have dreams than to keep them at bay...

"C'mon, Max..." Logan looked over at her averted eyes, her hands fussing with vegetables already pared and cleaned. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"So what if I had?" Her tone was slightly defensive, as if Logan had struck a nerve, even if unwittingly. " I'm the one with Lydecker and posse on my tail, remember? I can't really go above ground too much more than I have already – I've probably gone too far as it is. And there just aren't that many options for someone who can't show what she ever stepped into a classroom, ever, even first grade..."

"There are ways around that..." Logan interrupted, softly. "_I'm_ the one with the 'Identities 'r' Us' kit, remember? 'Transcripts while you wait...'"

She wavered, and finally glanced up at the shining, emerald eyes before her. Still resistive, she lifted her chin in a small show of defiance to say, "yeah, well, maybe I want to 'hang out for the afternoon in a cafe someplace wearing $2,000 wristwatches, planning our next vacation.'"

He smiled, softly, in recognition. "Is that what you'd want to do, really? If you did, I think it could be arranged..." At her continuing discomfort, he added, with a soft, wry grin, "at least you've proven you have good memory skills to bring to a job, as well." He hadn't wanted to make this an issue, or upset her, but his work was so important to him, defined for himself who he was, that he'd been struck by the sudden awareness of Max's lack of freedom to make such a choice for herself – and his apparent failure to even consider it before. "Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"

Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak...

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_Tinker, Tailor,  
Soldier, Sailor,  
Gentleman, Apothecary,  
Plough-boy, Thief._

_Army, Navy,  
Medicine, Law,  
Church, Nobility,  
Nothing at all._

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**__  
_

**And the Challenge begins!**

This Challenge is set to solicit your responses as to what Max really, truly would do with her life if she could! Please see details at FFN's Forums/TV Shows/Dark Angel/Blah Blah Woof Woof/Interactive Fiction, including a few housekeeping matters, but in a nutshell:

–For you writers, if you want to offer a response installment, send it to me at Shywr1terYahoo (dot)com, and I will add it as a "chapter" bearing your name.

–For non-writers, if you have an idea and would like to offer it as an idea for a response, send it to the above e-mail or post on the Forum topic noted above. You might even be able to poke a favorite writer into giving your idea a try, or we'll do so for you. Anonymous donations are accepted as well as signed ones; it will be your choice if you want to have the idea attributed to you or not.

**The more the merrier, people! _WWMD?_**


	2. Reilynn: The Answer Was Definitely Love

**Reilynn: _The Answer Was Definitely 'Love.'_  
**

A/N: Extensive revision by Shywr1ter, I am certain.

(Editor's note: Baloney. Two tiny typos. Barely worth changing!) This is Reilynn's response to the challenge posted in the form of Chapter One. Enjoy and review, please!

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

"You don't understand," Max sighed as she turned away from Logan to fuss with the silverware on the table.

"I know." Logan said softly. He followed Max to the kitchen table, dinner suddenly unimportant. "But I want to."

Max glanced back over her shoulder, her inner struggle evident on her furrowed brow.

Logan was looking at her with such concern in his beautiful green eyes. Privately she could admit that one of the things she loved and admired about him was how much he cared; even if, as she feared, he only cared about her because he cared about everyone. She would have liked to think that she was special, to him, but she didn't dare. _Hope is for losers. A con job people trip behind until they get a grip on the cold hard truth. But … maybe_ … Finally she admitted softly, "I don't know. I know that your mission, your job, is extremely important to you but … some of us are at a more physical, less philosophical level."

"What do you mean?"

Max struggled for some time with how to convey this in terms Logan would understand, without making him pity her. "Ever see Maslow's hierarchy of needs?"

"Yes." Inexplicable pain began to tug at Logan.

"Physiological needs aren't usually a problem. Not like an X5 needs much in the way of shelter or sleep."

Rationally, Logan knew that Max had escaped, barefoot in the snow, with nothing more than a smock on her back, into a harsh, unknown Wyoming winter. The thought of how many times she had been cold, let alone hungry, tore at him. He frowned, his beautiful, famous, verdant eyes level under drawn brows.

Max noted the frown, but misunderstood the source. "I know your mission in important to you." _The most important thing in your life_, the thought pained her more than she could explain.

"Everyone should have a purpose in life." Logan made the mistake of saying.

Max turned on him. "I had a purpose. Arguably more than anyone else on the planet, I was made for a very specific purpose." Max paused, her anger abating as fast as it flared. Logan realized his mistake; regret and perhaps a little sorrow stealing over his features. "I don't want to do that," she affirmed softly. She sounded lost … defeated.

"I know that. What do you want?" Logan soothed. He wanted to comfort, to make amends for unintentionally bringing Max any more pain than she already had.

Max didn't want to deal with this. She didn't want to think about all the things that she could never have, never be. But, also, perhaps even more, she didn't want to let Logan think that he was the cause of any of her anguish. Finally she answered, her voice obviously pained. "I don't know."

"It doesn't sound like you don't know. It sounds like you don't hope."

"Wishing won't change anything, Logan."

"I want to help."

_Of course you do_, Max thought sadly. Her genetically enhanced brain raced through several possible ways to convince Logan to just drop this. She finally decided that a light version of the truth would be the simplest, most effective answer … provided she omitted one very significant thing she very much wanted. _I wonder how well Occam's razor applies to human interactions?_ "I wish I was just a regular girl. Just human. No … seizures, no secret government agency out to kill me."

"Being normal isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Max laughed. Well she knew that Normal wasn't all he thought he was.

Logan realized his unintentional pun as soon as she laughed. _Sometimes the best results come from mistakes. Like Max._ "What I meant was that no one is normal in every way, and that is a good thing."

Max glared at him.

"Although you are significantly more … unusual than most."

"Than **everyone**, Logan."

"Most normal people spend most of their lives trying to be extraordinary in some way."

_Like you?_ Max wondered.

Logan continued on, unaware of the direction of Max's thoughts. "Max, you are extraordinary in every way. What is it about normal that appeals to you?"

Max cringed slightly at the thought of Normal appealing to her. She would have loved to know that he never would, but when she went into heat? Who knew? _One MORE thing to hate about my freak show of a body._

Logan caught the cringe and tried to give her a serious expression. "You know what I mean."

"I know. I just … I wish I had had a mother, a father, family that had … wanted me." Max turned away so that Logan could no longer see her face. "Someone to …" She couldn't bring herself to sound so needy/pathetic as to need someone to love her, so she settled on "care. To even just know me, who I really am, not what I have to pretend to be. Someone to be upset at my funeral. I won't even have a funeral. Manticore will make me disappear."

Max's hand came to her face and although Logan could not see, he suspected she was hiding tears.

She pressed on. "Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do; it won't matter. Nothing will have mattered. Some days - who cares?"

"I care."

"Would you still care if I wasn't the only genetically enhanced killing machine in your little brigade? How many other operatives do you have that doesn't blink at B&E?" She snapped.

Logan's answer was as immediate as it was heartfelt. "Yes!"

Logan knew that Max must be in pain. It made sense; who wouldn't be after all that she had been through? It meant that he was getting in; inside of the genetically enhanced armor plating around her … heart.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Basic human impulse, to care about each other."

"I'm not human." She challenged him to correct her. She prayed he would convince her that, in every way that truly mattered, she was.

"Is that really what you believe?"

"Have you not been paying attention? I'm a genetically engineered killing machine. A mad scientist's experiment that got away! I know I look human. I can pretend to be human all I like, but at the end of the day, when everyone else goes to sleep and I don't have to, not ever, I can't deny what I am."

"Being human isn't just a matter of biology, Max. Surely, you have seen enough of the darkness in the world to know that some people with 100 per cent human DNA are far less human than you."

"How do you know?" Max challenged. Her pained expression implored Logan to convince her she was human.

"You risked your life to save Sophie. You cared enough about Maria to go back and get her out of a bad situation. What Manticore did to you does not define who **you** are. You are human, Max. You're not only human, you are a better human that any of them that worked at Manticore, and better than any of the humans you've helped me expose."

Max wanted to believe that more than anything, especially from Logan. "You sure?"

"Of course I am sure. I think it was Thomas Jefferson who said that it is our actions that define us."

" 'Do you want to know who you are? Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.' Yeah, Thomas Jefferson."

Logan smiled, more confident than ever that Max could do whatever she wanted to do. "He was one of my favorites."

Max smirked at the irony and strongly suspected that several other of the American revolutionaries were among Logan's favorites.

"You **are** human, Max. Why is it so hard for you to believe?" When Max failed to answer Logan continued. "Want me to put it in a hack?" Logan offered with a mischievous grin.

Max finally laughed softly and offered Logan a tentative smile. "No!"

"Well, I wouldn't have to broadcast it, but I could make one just for you. If you wanted."

She shook her head. "Logan, how can you be sure?"

The pain and hope in her eyes finally told Logan what she wanted. She wanted him to win this argument. She needed him to convince her of her humanity. He wasn't certain he could win, but that never stopped Logan Cale. "I know who you are Max. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Hope bloomed; Max smiled slowly. "I've sure got something I need to hide." Her heart really wasn't in this fight. She didn't want to win. She didn't want to think of what her traitorous heart wanted. It wasn't safe, not for her and certainly not for him.

Logan laughed. "Well, yeah, me too."

_But then again, maybe Logan doesn't care about being safe_. "I guess my point is that I've always been too preoccupied with the 'safety' level to worry about too much above that."

"But you have a little bit," Logan ventured to guess.

"Maybe a little bit, one level up. Friends, family …"

Unbidden, Logan recalled the very definition of the 'Love/Belonging' level of Maslow's Hierarchy of needs. _Friends, family, and sexual intimacy_. He wanted to suppress the mere thought, but couldn't. _I guess Max has a point about it being painful to want things you know that you can't have_.

Unaware of the turn in Logan's thoughts, Max continued. "But recognition is the last thing I need and self-actualization isn't even on the map. I know you grew up with all of the basics, and I think it's great that you're trying to help instead of exploit like …"

_She thinks I'm great? No, that is not what she said. Not exactly, but it's close. If it is our actions that define us and she thinks that my actions are great, then really, how big of a leap is it to thinking that I'm …_ Logan tried to shake it off, to remind himself that he wasn't close to her level. Not in any way, shape, form, or ability.

" … the reality is I'm never really going to be safe. Not from Manticore, or all the people out there after my DNA. I'd have to stop running long enough to catch my breath before I could even start to think about how I want to 'leave a legacy' or 'contribute to society'."

"Max, you do contribute. You did more for other people last week than some people do in their entire lives. I know that it isn't easy for you. It is not how you were raised." _If you could even consider what Manticore did 'raising children'_. Logan corrected himself, "Trained. But you do care. I've seen it. It is probably easier for you to care about children because you know that there isn't anything they could have done about Manticore. They are not one of the group that 'didn't help you' when you needed it. They are in the 'couldn't possibly have helped' group."

"I still think I'll let you worry about 'contributing to society' for both of us. I don't think Manticore will ever give up. They can't. It just feels like no matter what I do or how far or fast I run, I'll never be able to get away from them." Max turned and walked over to the window. As much as she trusted Logan, she didn't even want to acknowledge to herself how much this hurt, let alone allow anyone else to see it.

Logan followed her over to the window. "Max?" Logan thought he saw her wipe away tears before she turned to face him; he could clearly see tears gleaming in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for." She tried to reassure him. The last thing she wanted was his pity. She turned again to stare out the window. She'd let her defenses down for just a moment and all the darkness of her life was threatening to overwhelm her. She should have known better. _How does Logan get in? He's a better hacker than anyone ever imagined._

"Max?" Logan offered tentatively. He reached out to take her hand. He held her hand in his, caressing her with his fingertips.

_Gentle, but not soft. He's rich, never had to work a day in his life. Why aren't his hands soft? They are calloused. From the wheelchair. From the work he has **chosen** to do. _

Max's hand grasped Logan's as if it were a lifeline. In a way it was. Softly, gently, Logan pulled her to him. She came without a murmur of protest, crawling gracefully into his lap. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, his nearness providing more comfort than she had ever known, or could explain. Logan wrapped her securely in his strong arms and she felt strangely safe.

Logan tried chivalrously to ignore the warm shivers that her heated breath on his neck sent down his spine. "I want to help you."

"You have." It was true. He shared his home with her, generously, without hesitation, any time she needed shelter or subsistence. He wrapped his arms around her and, against all logic and reason and evidence, she felt safe. He knew what she was, yet still insisted she was human; and she felt his acceptance, his friendship, his … something more? He was the one person who knew and respected her abilities. He had even provided her with a ready-made way to contribute to humanity. Max reached out to embrace everything she needed; she wrapped her arms around Logan Cale.

"What do you want?" he coaxed.

Unwillingly Max recalled Sketchy's words earlier _'women come into this world with a mission, which is to make offspring'_. Max was able to prevent herself from laughing at the thought of Logan's reaction if she asked him to help her with that. She was not able to prevent the rush of warmth that spread throughout her body because she was in Logan's arms, thinking about him helping her … with that. Her arms tightened around Logan and she buried her face into his neck, but gave no other response.

Logan tightened his grip on her as well. He was trying desperately not to let his creative mind convince him that her holding onto him tighter was in any way a response to his question; or that, maybe, just maybe, a beautiful young woman like her could want an obsessed older man …_even if he's crippled? What have you to offer her? Stir fry?_ Logan knew the pain of wanting things you can't have more keenly now than ever before. His rational side tried to convince him that he couldn't be reacting to holding Max in his arms, regardless of what his overactive imagination was telling him he felt. _Even if I were reacting, I definitely couldn't feel it._

Max broke into his thoughts with a soft, "I want to stop running." She didn't quite dare say the rest of what she thought. _And settle down … with you. _

"The alternative to flight is fight." Logan pointed out.

"Fight Manticore? ALL of it? Are you nuts?"

Logan shrugged. "I am certain some will say so. Max, Manticore is a secret government organization. A few well timed, well placed, hacks and they would be exposed."

"If the first hack didn't destroy them, and I don't think that it would get them all, you might not live long enough to broadcast a second."

"That's always a risk, no matter who I expose. That isn't my biggest concern if we do decide to go after Manticore."

_We? Why would you take such a risk, for me?_ Max was bombarded with unfamiliar feelings she couldn't quite name, or control. "What is?"

"The government would try to deny the existence of Manticore. What would they do with all the transgenics that they still have? They would prove the existence of Manticore."

"Destroy," Max whispered. She well knew the value that Manticore placed on life.

"I'm not saying it can't be done, but we'd have to be very careful to avoid massive loss of life."

"You sound like you've given this some thought."

"Yes. The other thing is that to expose Manticore means to expose the existence of transgenics, which would make your life more dangerous." Logan caressed her hair; unsure of whom he was comforting.

"Like that ever stopped you from doing what you needed to do."

"It doesn't stop you either. I don't think you appreciate what an exceptional human being that makes you."

"Like you?"

"Touché."

"It sounds like you've got a plan."

"I've got some ideas, some information, and some contacts. I didn't want to proceed beyond gathering information without you."

Max let out a long sigh. She paused to think for a long moment, and then lifted herself from Logan's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "OK. Let's do this."

"That's my girl." Logan gave Max his most encouraging smile.

_I wish_, comes unbidden to Max. "After dinner."

Logan laughs briefly. "Definitely."

Logan leaned forward slowly and tentatively to place a chaste kiss on Max's cheek. The touch of his lips to her skin sent shivers throughout Max's body. She let out a soft sound somewhere between a mew and a sigh. When Logan pulled back there was such longing in her eyes that it was painful to see. When he asked her what she wanted, he never expected the answer to be him. _That is desire in her eyes, isn't it? Has it really been so long I can't even tell anymore?_ He hadn't thought of himself as desirable since the chair; he hadn't often thought of himself as a man since the chair.

Max couldn't tell what the strangely puzzled look on Logan's features meant, but she was through being afraid. Or at least letting fear preventing her from seizing what she wanted. Her fingers threaded through Logan's hair, she captured his lips with hers. She felt the electricity of his touch as the passion that had always flowed between them flared to life. Tentatively they explored the taste and texture of the other.

Somehow Logan's hand found its way into Max's hair, holding her to him as the feel of her lips completely consumed him. His instinctive response to her was so powerful it left Logan in awe, wondering if there was something … sensual in her cocktail, but unwilling to risk hurting her with the reminder she was different. This time he wasn't sick and she wasn't running for her life. This time he didn't have to send her away. This time he would never let her go.

When Max finally released him, she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. The same desperation and uncertainty that was there outside of his family's cabin was there now.

"Stay," Logan whispered.

Max's hearing picked it up clearly. Suddenly she was blissfully happy.

"Stay … with me," Logan dared. His voice was louder, but still a husky whisper.

Max nodded, and reclaimed his lips. Max didn't have the words to describe the warm glow that flowed through her. There were no words. Fortunately, they didn't need any words.

For some things, even dinner can wait.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

A/N: OK, this is my answer to Interactive fiction 1. Does someone else want to submit another answer? Run from this point on? Or what?


	3. Mari83: Nothing at All

**E/D: This entry is by Mari83: see Chapter I for challenge details. S**

A/N: Thanks to Shywriter for finding mistakes and for all her highly appreciated suggestions. And of course for making this stir-fry-friendly; her description was taken pretty much word for word and should be obvious to anyone who knows her writing. (So, if anyone feels hungry or inspired to cook after reading, Shy is the one to blame;-) 

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX _

E/N: I take full blame for any typos and mangled punctuation not caught-- I neglected to get the 'hidden' edit function on Word (an alien around here) under control. (And the only thing I'd think was 'obvious' about the writing I did was that it was food-oriented! I barely did anything; the response if definitely Mari's terrific efforts.)

And Mari--thanks so much for the response! Yet another successful outing for our newest publishing writer:)

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Logan's thoughts are in italics.

**Nothing at all**

"Okay, I'll tell you." She shot him a quick, shy peek from under her lashes. "But you have to promise not to laugh."

_I'd never laugh at you Max, you should know that._

But he only gave her a serious nod and then, as she still wouldn't talk, raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"To live in peace. You know, a little house, enough money to pay the bills, my siblings living nearby…maybe even…" she hesitated, suddenly finding her hands very interesting, "a family of my own."

Max hadn't dared to meet his eyes while she spoke, almost embarrassed that she, something cooked up in a laboratory, would have such silly dreams. Now she glanced over to Logan to see how he'd taken her response. Her face fell when she noticed that he seemed somehow disappointed, not satisfied. It was clearly not the kind of answer he'd expected.

"You know, Logan, when I asked you not to laugh, that kind of implied you having your face under control." She watched him coolly, her face unreadable. "What's wrong with what I said?"

There was nothing left of the vulnerable, soft inner core of Max he'd just had the privilege of glimpsing, a side of her she usually hid so well in her typical mixture of sarcasm and streetwise remarks. Instead, she was staring at him defensively, her voice guarded and a faint note of annoyance creeping into it, something Logan only recognized only too well as the beginning of one of their arguments.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it, Max. It's … nice." Logan finally responded, speaking hastily in an attempt to restrict the damage his curiosity had inflicted. He wasn't yet willing to give up on the topic, though, convinced that such an amazing, extraordinary person like Max must have higher aims in life. "But apart from all that normalcy and quiet, what do you want to do with your life? I mean, don't you want to put those prodigious skills of yours into real use? Learn a profession?"

"What's wrong with wanting a normal life? Isn't that enough for snooty Mr. Cale from Seattle's finest?" she demanded, definitely irritated with him now.

_What have you done, Logan, you idiot? Spoiling a perfectly peaceful evening, just because you can't stop inflicting your standards on other people._

He didn't answer immediately, obviously searching for the right words, something that wouldn't fuel her anger any more and in doing so, had his search cut short by an exasperated Max.

"There's a big difference between us, Logan. You may be able to forget that, sitting in your ivory tower all day, but I won't." She had walked up and was now standing directly in front of him, hands on her hips, a posture that was meant to be confrontational, but for Logan, it only underlined her raving beauty. "Your family might be all screwed up, but you were raised in wealth and abundance, never having to worry about your next meal. And I bet going to best schools and colleges just was the most normal thing in the world for you."

He wanted to tell her that it hadn't always been that easy, but this wasn't about him. And in a way, seen from a purely material angle, he had to admit that she was indeed right. He'd never lacked food or money or all the fancy things most people only could dream of.

"I, on the other hand," Max continued in a quieter, reserved tone, now that she was talking about herself, "am only an uneducated girl from the street, living in a run down, rat-infested house with all my belongings fitting into one large duffel bag. All of that, if I may remind you, is an immense improvement for which I'm very grateful, after years of being shoved from one foster family to the other and then having a 'home" on the lovely streets of post-pulse America." She paused, but only to collect herself for the next torrent of words. "And as if this wasn't enough for one person to deal with, on top of all that, there is this secret government agency just waiting for me to do something dumb so they can come and lock me in a cage for the rest of my life. So, again Logan, tell me what's wrong about wanting a stable home, one which isn't in constant danger of being confiscated by some corrupted cop."

_You'd always be welcome to live here._

Max drew in a long breath, feeling drained after having set idealistic Logan straight about her reality. Logan was still a bit stunned at how such a seemingly easy question could trigger such an intense flare of temper, but this time was able to get out an appropriate answer.

"I'm sorry, Max," he assured her, wanting to take her hand into his to emphasize the genuineness of his words, but was afraid of crossing that border.

_Coward_.

Instead, he settled on searching her eyes, which had avoided his for the most of their conversation, hoping she would believe the sincerity he laid in his voice. With a steady gaze he soothed, "Max, honestly, I didn't want to minimize your dreams in any way. I was just wondering… don't you ever dream of more, of being a doctor or a teacher? Or maybe something out of the ordinary, like an actress or a singer?"

She cast a long thoughtful glance in his direction, her anger at his snobbish behavior not gone that easily, but considerably cooled down by his seemingly heartfelt confirmations. "I really can't say I do. Me with a formal education and a real profession, not just some hired-of the-from-street-job like at Jam Pony, that's something that never crossed my mind." Max's speech had slowed down, and then paused altogether, as she processed with her inner eye all the different possibilities Logan's words had laid out before her.

"It's weird." Her face wore a puzzled, critical expression now. "I always played around with this silly picture of 'Home, sweet home', but never thought about how I would actually earn a living then. I just can't see myself in all these different roles 'normal' people choose for themselves at various points of their lives."

Logan couldn't help flinching at that last sentence, pained at hearing Max refer to herself as 'abnormal,' she who was the image of perfection to him.

_You've never been anything but normal to me, Max, don't you see that?_

"Don't know why," she continued quietly, with a trace of wistfulness in her voice, again peeking at him only briefly. "Probably because I never had the experiences most people accumulate throughout their lives. You know, going to school, having hobbies, seeing parents and relatives in different lines of work."

"I guess Lydecker wasn't such a great role model."

She snorted at his sarcasm and then shrugged. Her nonchalant air, successful with everybody else, could not deceive him. Watching her fairly convincing act of pretending, Logan found himself strongly wish the impossible – giving Max all she wished for, bestowing her with a normal, ordinary life, if it really was what she desired.

_Reality check, Logan. You are not a superhero, despite what you made half of Seattle believe._

But despite knowing of his limited possibilities, right now in this moment, he just wanted to do something, anything, to make her smile and let them both forget, if only for a short instant, that in her life occasions for careless laughter had been painfully rare.

"What about marrying a rich guy?" It was a lame remark he finally came up with; Logan knew it, but he hoped that, nevertheless, Max would somehow recognize his stupid comment for what it was – a comical attempt to regain some of the evening's earlier lightness. "That would surely solve all your problems."

"Logan Cale…prototype of a bleeding heart liberal, turns out to be a chauvinist at last. Who would have thought?" Her hands were back on her hips, but the mocking tone of her reply told him he was good again in Max's books.

Glad she had taken his bait, Logan grinned at her broadly, a gesture Max answered with a lopsided smirk of her own. "But who knows, if the rich guy's nice…," she added lightly after a moment. Still gazing up at her, Logan discerned something else in her eyes, something he couldn't quite read, giving her words a deeper, hidden sense he wasn't sure he was meant to see. He gave her another, dazzling smile, one that was meant to cover his confusion. Then he swiveled the chair around to seek refuge in the safe task of cooking, as the moment had threatened to get awkward – a phenomenon that often occurred when their casual talking touched topics they both weren't ready yet to discuss.

"What about you?"

"Me?" he asked, absently stirring the settling sauce with a small whisk while a disturbingly insistent picture of Max as a stunningly beautiful bride – his bride – took all his attention.

_Yeah, right Cale, like that is going to happen._

"Why didn't you and Valerie have any kids?"

The whisk stopped in its circular movement as her query clearly caught him unawares. He laid it aside and turned to face Max, wondering where that question had come from.

"Definitely wasn't about me. I always wanted children, a family of my own. Maybe an attempt to recreate the few happy moments I had with both of my parents," he admitted ruefully. "It was Val who always stalled. 'Too soon, why not wait a few more years, why spoil our happiness with disrupted nights and dirty diapers…' She never told me the real reason. With her drinking habits escalating, it's a good thing she never got pregnant, though." He sighed. "Thinking back, that was the time when I somehow stopped thinking about starting a family altogether."

"You never thought about it again?" A quiet, cautious question, formed by her profound curiosity about everything concerning Logan.

"Nope. Eyes Only and children don't exactly go together well." Logan grimaced, amused at the idea of having to find a babysitter before going out on a mission. It was a short lived diversion though, ended by the constant and still aching reminders of what was his reality since that dreadful day he'd lost Peter and his legs. "And now…" another, deep sigh before speaking again, his voice bare of any emotion. "I don't know if I still could. It's not that likely." He stared down at his legs and she knew he was referring to one of the many side effects of his injury.

Watching Logan sitting there lost in thought about lost opportunities and roads never taken, Max felt the urge to tell him how sorry she was, but knew full well he wouldn't want to hear it. A moment passed silently, making Max worry she'd lost him to one of the many shades of his dark moods. But then, the effort it took him almost imperceivable, Logan resurfaced from whatever memories he'd been contemplating and surprised her with a wicked grin. "But who knows, with the right woman, I might give it a try..."

Max smiled warmly at hearing her own phrase from his mouth, then threw a pointed look at the waiting wok and pared vegetables.

"What about this culinary miracle you promised?" she inquired.

"Uh… actually, it's almost done" he stated, only with difficulty tearing his eyes away from her perfect appearance.

"So, what are you waiting for? You want a chimera with a hyper-active metabolism starving to death in your kitchen? Bip, bip!" An ironic wave of her hands to get him moving.

"Now, how could I want that?" He flipped on the burner under the waiting wok. "My poor fridge would feel so lonely without your nightly raids." The expected dry response was uttered a bit absently as he lined up the ingredients before him, swirled cold oil into the now sizzling pan, and with a flourish quickly turned raw vegetables, chicken and yet another of his secret sauces into a noisy Cale concoction of mouth-watering aromas.

Watching him in his element, completely oblivious to her reflective gaze, once more a gentle smile crossed Max's lips. She was glad she had Logan, much more than she liked to admit. She was aware he could not change her screwed up genetics or reunite her siblings, knew that he could not magically fulfill all her wishes by a mere snap of his fingers. But just to know he was there for her, caring, with the genuine desire to know who she really was, deep down, gave her a certain comfort with her life.

"A measure of peace", she mused, her smile growing into wide grin as she grabbed some dishes to help him set the table. "Seems like, after all, I'm not too bad off."


	4. RT4ever: Into the Sunset

**RT4ever: **

**AN**: Okay, so Rei's commenting on Mari's chapter led to mine. The 'What about you?' line. Of course, since I was just skimming through the reviews, the original context didn't click immediately, but this came to my mind, probably due to my excessive DA related thoughts this Easter, thanks to Shy. If you've watched the commentary then you'll know what I'm talking about, the idea behind this is from MW, and if you haven't, GO WATCH:-P

Warning: Nothing special. Just normal DA chatter. Very short.

Oh, and fingers crossed, everyone, that Shy tore this to threads and corrected all of my boo boos. If she did, I love you Shy. Then again, even if she didn't, she still gets love anyway for her interesting twist on a challenge.

**E/N**: Just as the other contributors have done, RT4ever sent me a lovely fic-let that barely needed a tweak. Enjoy:)

**Into in the Sunset**

"You first," she countered.

"What?" he paused, caught off guard by her demand.

"You're the one who knows everything about me. How about a little insight into what Logan Cale dreams of?" Her arms bent, and she leaned back against the counter, staring at him, daring.

"Max-"

"Tell me this is the life you dreamed of when you were a little kid," she once more dared.

"Didn't I ever tell you," he didn't miss a beat, "I had a cowboy-themed room … All I ever dreamed of being was the Lone Ranger."

She looked at him not fully understanding; she had a vague idea of who the guy was, black mask or something…

"Hi-yo Silver away?" Logan offered.

"That's the horse," she nodded. She'd been hearing people say that since she'd been out. On their bikes, even on piggyback.

He nodded. He really needed to educate her on the finer parts of Pre-Pulse American culture. "Of course, white is too hard to keep clean in Seattle. I figured Betsy's charcoal was at least close enough to the name."

"So this Lone Ranger guy have a side kick?"

"He did, in fact," Logan nodded with an amused smile. "A slightly exotic, 'their ways were not quite known to the rest of society' friend, Tonto. He even had his very own trusted steed."

"So you're comparing me to someone named Stupid?" Her eyes narrowed and she looked down.

A slightly chagrined smile. "Before I say anything else, let me point out that you were the one that said that."

Her eyes rolled.

"If I recall correctly, it was supposed to be a Native-American term meaning 'wild one.'"

Her eyes went up and she pretended to think about it. "I think I can live with that."

"Thought you could," he smirked.

"You're not getting out of this, Kemosabe."

"I thought you'd never heard of the show," he questioned.

"Did I ever say that?" Two could play that game. "Now answer my question. You went to college.Didn't you get a degree or something?"

"Just barely. I only finished a few weeks before the Pulse," he paused and nodded, "though I didn't get my diploma until 2011."

"Focus Logan," she said, walking over and retrieving the bowl from him. No more until she got some answers.

He looked up. "I wanted to be out of my family. I guess I got what I wished for." His voice was cool and flat, his perfect Logan 'betray no emotions' voice.

"That's what you wished for?"

"You don't take every summer class you can for the fun of it, Max."

"Okay," she nodded, "so that was then, this is now. What would you wish for now? I don't mean world peace or any crap like that. No rewinding to skip the Pulse… Something totally pure and selfish."

He looked down at his legs and then up at her, with an 'are you kidding me' face.

"I'm offering you the world at your finger tips and all you want is the ability to walk?"

"Try it for a day, Max, and get back to me," he countered.

"Fine, fine, so poof," her hands flashed open at him, "you get your legs back. What else?"

His mouth started to open.

"Legs back and the country's back on its feet, all evil doers have been taken out by a plague that affects them and only them, and it's been proven that it was an act of God, not man. No one to fight for, just yourself."

His mouth reopened and then quickly shut as he realized he hadn't let himself think of anything like that in a long time, a really long time.

"Did you want to work on a newspaper when you were in college? A magazine, TV?" A knowing smile flashed at him. "Travel the world, be in a big city? You had to have had a reason behind it, or did you just close your eyes and point when you picked your major?"

"I wanted to help people."

"Lots of ways to help people, you could have been a doctor-"

"Too much blood."

"A lawyer? Rumor has it they can actually be useful on occasion."

"Too much school."

"Why do I not think that's the reason?" Could it be because Logan was hands down the smartest person she'd ever met? There were people like Normal who were smart in certain fields. Logan was smart across the board, even in the common sense department. Of course, that applied with other people…

"You're forgetting the 'I wanted out of my family.' I figured I'd travel and never see them. Maybe pop home when a cousin got married or something. Have stories of the world to tell…" His eyes lit up, pleased to have an answer. "That's what I'd do."

She simply looked confused.

"I'd find my old backpack…Actually I'd probably buy a new one, since mine's probably halfway down a landfill, and I'd travel. I'd see everything's that changed."

"Where would you go?"

"Everywhere. Every marketplace, museum, palace, temple; walk on the cobblestone, the asphalt, dirt roads," he smiled, "get nauseous in a few skyscrapers."

"You notice where you live lately?" she smiled.

He smiled, but wasn't deterred. "Rainforests, safaris, skiing…I haven't been skiing in three years," he suddenly frowned, realizing he was getting caught up in this, and they weren't just sitting around planning their next vacation. Just sitting around generally implied one would be able to stand at the end of it. "Bennett asked me to go last year, but I was too busy."

She continued to watch him, knowing there was still more.

"I think I'd just sit on the beach in Seminyak, watch the waves, the sun, feel the sand…Just absorb life."

"That's all?" she finally teased. She'd been expecting a simple answer from Logan. Stupid of her, she realized now, nothing with him was ever just simple.

"You asked," he shrugged, a faint trace of the light he'd let in still remaining in his eyes. "Your turn."

"Come on, Kemosabe, you know how it goes. Can't ride off into the sunset without your sidekick," she smirked, and finally handed back the bowl. "Good thing your plan doesn't suck. I'd hate to have the final scene be you, hog tied, trailing behind my trusty steed."

"That's cheating," he said, his eyes wide in dismay, holding the already forgotten bowl in his hand as he stared at her.

"And that's dinner you're holding," she smiled as her head quickly bobbed, "so get to it."

"This isn't over," he ordered before turning his attention back to dinner.

"I know," she smiled before hopping up on a counter to watch him.

_...Tune in next week as we follow the adventures of…_


	5. Shywr1ter: Eyes Too

**_By Shywr1ter_ **

**Disclaimer: No rights, ownership or other interest here in Dark Angel or its characters; no profits made. **

**A/N: My turn: To be honest, this isn't really the sort of choice either Logan or I was looking for – but it came to mind. Emotional and mildly AU, but what the heck, just for fun. Given the circumstances, I think it's a possible few moments between them, when Max is pressed by Logan on a day she was ready to admit these feelings... and what might come of it.**

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

"_Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"_

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

"You, Logan," Max breathed. "I'd want to be you..."

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

**Eyes, Too**

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

At her confession, Max dared to look back up into the famous green eyes, and saw a parade of emotions there – and not any of those she'd expected to see. She hadn't really known how he might react, but the last thing she expected was the complete shut down from an obviously stung Logan, who turned his back to her and began clearing the work table of their efforts, shoving pared vegetables onto a plate and the parings on to the center of the chopping board. Hurt? Angry? She couldn't tell what was going on behind his well-practiced armor, but this withdrawal never occurred to her as she'd managed to get up the courage to admit her admiration of him along with her shame that, no matter the reason, so much of her life had been selfish and self-serving. Couldn't he see what she was trying to tell him?

He whacked the brakes of his chair now and, cutting board on his lap, crossed over to dump the garbage into the sink, throw on the water and start the disposal grinding away. Leaving it on, the jarring noise almost covering his words even to Max's ears, he muttered, "hope you don't mind a manual chair, Max, cos the electric ones are all but impossible to find..."

Max blinked as if slapped, for once at a loss for response. How had her admission of a moral failing become once again about his injury? And how was she supposed to respond now? Moments ago, he'd acted as if he really wanted to know her innermost hopes, but then it all suddenly became muddled, and now he was lashing out at her, at himself, as he went back with the plate of vegetables toward the counter and stove...

"... and the batteries are a bitch to locate..."

Maybe the first jab had thrown her, but the second focused her own anger on his injury as well – the unfairness of it, how it stood between them, how Logan let _it_ be his wall far too often and used it as an easy excuse to avoid the question of just what it was, between them...

And she reacted. She crossed the few steps to snap off the howling disposal and slapped off the water. 'Damn it, Logan, why are you so intent on making everything about the fact you use a chair? Nobody _else_ does..."

He stopped in place, not facing her, to respond, "Well, forgive me, Max, but when you said you'd want to be me – especially given your own physical status, with that whole 'faster than a speeding bullet and the leaping tall buildings in a single bound' thing – I wasn't sure if you meant the snappy new wheels or the carefree social life that comes with it..." Stung, Logan heard himself still throwing out sarcasm in retaliation for Max's refusal to give his question a straight answer. He'd reached out to her, hoping to help her find her heart's desire, and she mocked him, refusing to take it seriously. Humiliated that his attempt had been squelched, he could still hear how snide – and how childish – he sounded. Still – anything was better than letting Max see the sudden, strangely intense hurt he felt in being blown off by her... He pushed again toward the counter and lay the plate of vegetables by the stove. He made no further move to start them cooking, suddenly losing his appetite ...

"For God's sake, Logan!" Max stood before him, frustration and hurt of her own rising at his words. She'd thought she understood the level of his anger at his limitations – but could he really be so deaf to what she was trying to say? The man she admired so much, who'd taught her what caring was, who had demonstrated time after time what altruism and compassion and selflessness were, taking the painful admission she'd tried to offer and interpreting it as sarcasm or... or what? She managed, "do you _really_ think that's what I meant?" Her eyes prickled with the start of angry tears. "Do you?"

Max's emotional anger dented his defenses a little, and the hurt that had arisen so quickly at her words parted just enough to let him hear the tears in her voice. _Maybe not what you meant...and maybe not what I assumed... _his mind responded silently before his voice could,_ but how can it not be the first thing you see about me?_ She was waiting for as response and he could only shrug, painfully, finally meeting her eyes to say, "look at me, Max..."

"I am. Maybe you need to take a look, too. You know damn well you would never, _ever_ think that way about someone else with your injury." As she spoke, her frustration softened with her realization of how little he thought of himself, this man who meant so much to so many... who meant so much to her. In a quieter voice, her own hurt now clear, she managed, "and I would hope you know by now I wouldn't, either." Seeing that she'd gotten past the wall, at least a little, she asked, her voice carrying the bruise she felt in his abrupt response, "How am I supposed to believe you can overlook the fact I'm head to toe a screwed-up, genetic tinker-toy, when you can't forgive yourself for having a severed spinal cord?"

He looked at the troubled eyes, the distress he saw there all for him, and his humiliation of a few moments ago started to fade as he realized he'd misunderstood, jumping again to defensive conclusions. His eyes not leaving hers, he tipped his head slightly to offer, in absolute candor, "because _you're_ perfect..."

She wanted to contradict him, remind him she was a custom-designed lemon with botched wiring, a cold-hearted soldier out only for herself, her recognition of which having started this mess – but she couldn't, not with the look in his eyes, one of yearning, undeniable belief in his words ... she too now relented a little, pulled into the spell of Seattle's most well-known eyes. "Hardly," she murmured, leaning sideways against the counter as her emotions quieted. Still, she prodded a little, remembering the jab she'd felt at his words. "Not if you really thought that's what I meant..." Even so, she could not yet make eye contact with him, not at that moment...

"I'm sorry, Max," his apology was as honest as his other words had been. "I shouldn't have been so ready to make assumptions, without letting you explain..."

"You said you wanted to know..." Her words carried her lingering defensiveness, no matter how faint _– what had you **wanted** to hear, Logan?_ she wondered...

"And I do...' He paused, feeling awkward, juggling the competing emotions of embarrassment for his limitations, shame for his knee-jerk, apparently wildly inappropriate reaction to her words, curiosity at what she actually had meant, and a tiny flicker of hope that it meant she found in him something to admire. The striking eyes searched hers, offering a small smile, hoping for a reprieve. "...but you have to admit it wasn't the sort of answer I might've expected, asking what you'd want to _do_ with your life..."

She looked into his face, still a bit grudging of her trust again quite so soon. "But you didn't... you asked what I'd chose to do or to _be_..." She watched his reaction, his acknowledgment of his challenge. "It was the truest answer I had."

The beautiful green this time flickered a little, reflecting his fear of assuming more than he should, but daring to believe more _was_ there. His smile was haunted as he admitted, "that's just not something I expect to hear from anybody, least of all you..."

"_Why?"_ she blurted.

Immediately, he felt guilty that yet again this was becoming about him and not Max. He offered a sad smile and shrugged, "we're not talking about me now. It's your turn ... and I _want_ to know – if you're still willing to explain..." A combination of sheepish apology and timid belief that she might mean she found him worthy of emulation gave him an expression and sound Max had never seen from him before, which touched her deeply – and made her all the more uncomfortable admitting her failings to him, even if he already knew them...

She looked back up to the waiting expression, and in her discomfort, turned to walk over to a barstool at the island across from her, sitting aside the counter there. As Logan followed to face her from the bar's end, she tried, "I'm not so sure... how smart is it of me to keep trying to talk you into seeing I'm not very high minded?"

At her words, feeling he might be forgiven, his expression relaxed into a relieved smile, and he leaned forward, resting elbows on knees, waiting, the stir-fry forgotten by both of them. "Don't know about smart, but it _is_ a losing battle..."

She met his gaze and lingered there for long moments, seeing the affection and care he held for her ... and finally relented with a small smile in return. But almost immediately the smile shifted away into a look of longing, of admiration and admission, all at once ... and she drew a long breath. "I've never met anyone I've admired as much as I do you, Logan. In so many ways – for so many reasons. No matter what I might do, I would like to do it the way you would – always thinking of others, even those you don't know. You're so passionate about the possibility of a better world – and you believe it _is_ actually possible. You're insistent in demanding a fair shake for everyone, and in demanding the haves not be so greedy ... You're willing to give anything you have to make sure others are safe or wrongs get righted." She watched to see if he could accept her words. "That's remarkable, you know that, right? I've never met anyone else who is so selfless..."

He shook his head. "Each of us does what we can..."

"No we don't. _I_ don't. That's just it..." She paused. "Anything I've ever done for anyone other than myself was your doing. I never even thought of it 'til I learned from you ... never worried about anyone but myself..."

"That's not true, Max ... when we met you were turning yourself inside out trying to find your family..."

"Yeah. For me. And you were out trying to stop Sonrisa from killing guys like Theo, just to pad his bank account."

"I had the luxury of knowing my family was fed, had a roof over their heads ... you didn't." He smiled softly at Max, his own admiration for her clear. "You wanted to know if the others had made it, if they needed your help. You cared about them, wanted them happy and safe. Not so different."

"Yeah, right..." She countered. "You've given away thousands of dollars to complete strangers – or is it millions by now? Logan, _no_ one else I know is that generous..."

Logan saw the lingering disbelief on the beautiful face, and realized that she meant it, that she hadn't seen what he had in herself. "Max..." His velvety voice caressed her as gently as he had in his dreams, when he'd held her, promised her the sun and moon and a life free of danger... "So maybe you haven't given away much cash – how can you give away what you never had in the first place? You haven't handed out cash because you had none to give. But the commodity most precious to you – your _freedom _– you risk on a regular basis for those you care about, even those you don't know." The look of pride he had in his eyes for her was unmistakable. "Every time you do that, every time you do something for Eyes Only, or for your friends ... or for me ... you risk losing so much more than I do in giving up a few dollars." In her increasingly thoughtful expression, Logan saw that Max was finally considering his words. "So, as nice as it is, to think you wanted to be 'me," if it was for that reason ... it's not something to 'be,' but something you _are_. You're already there, Max, and well past me, no matter what you say."

Max's eyes gazed off in the distance for several moments as she considered his words, before finally looking back to the man she so admired – who found ways to downplay his astounding contributions and to make her yet again feel human, worthy...

"...and so, if you _wanted_..." Logan continued, "maybe it's time you think about what you'd like to do, if there's something out there you'd rather do with your days other than delivering packages for a cranky conservative paper-pusher..."

Her grin grew slowly into a smirk, challenging him yet again. "As opposed to doing leg-work for a cranky liberal do-gooder?"

"I'm not cranky," he managed to hide his own grin with his words.

"No..." her voice and eyes were warm, softening as she considered him. After a moment, she tipped her head, possibilities starting to turn in her mind. "Okay, I'll give it some thought," she conceded, "but you know, I still stand by my first answer – I'd like to be you. Or, rather..." she watched carefully to see how he'd react. "Eyes Only."

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean ... I've even thought about it, sometimes. Or ... I've thought about it after that mess with Bronck." Ever restless, Max slipped out of the barstool to pace a little, crossing to the counter across from her, her memory of that incident playing through her thoughts. "Getting on the line with him, I got to be Eyes Only for those few minutes... and figuring out what the cargo was, and getting to the plane before it took off..." she trailed, as Logan watched her, unmoving. "And even though I messed up and missed the first planeload of girls, to know you had those connections way down in LA and saved them, too... I had a glimpse of what all you've been able to do, and how that feels..." She turned back to look at him, her eyes sparkling with the excitement she'd felt. "I was thinking ... you know, if you ever decided you wanted a break from it all..."

"You're ready to unseat me?" He asked, his expression hard to read.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him quickly, "it's all your hard work that built Eyes Only to what you have now..." _And it would kill him to let it go, even into good hands_, she knew, _it's way too important to him to give up short of dire emergency... _"But if you ever needed to go above ground for a while, be obvious as Logan Cale, investigative journalist, you know, to throw off any suspicions of who you are..." She let her smile creep back up into place, her offer shy but sincere. "I could hold down the fort as Eyes Only – and the public could see Superman and Clark Kent out in public together, same time, same place, all questions put to rest."

Logan was quiet for a moment, seeming to mull over the prospect and worrying Max for the moment that he had yet again misunderstood. _He knows I didn't mean that he should give it up, because of his injury ... doesn't he?_ She watched the beautiful green eyes as they seemed to scrutinize her, and Max wondered if she ought to try again to explain... After a moment of considering offer – and her not-so-veiled advice that he take a break from it to distance himself from any suspicion – Logan pursed his lips, frowning.

"Logan?" The sound of her voice, for Max, was positively meek, and she found that she'd taken the two or three steps back to where he sat, just watching her. Would she ever learn that fine line between demonstrating care and concern, as Logan did so well, and saying something, unwittingly, that, unexpectedly, he'd take the wrong way? Those eyes barely flickered at his name...

But he drew a breath, and spoke. "Bling usually goes for the Batman-Bruce Wayne thing." He raised an eyebrow, and saw that his response let Max relax into a wide grin. "He won't admit it, but I think it's all the 'no superpowers but some cash to buy toys' analogy."

"Nope. It's gotta be the 'journalist-glasses make the mortal' routine." She hesitated another moment before she dared, "You know you're the real Eyes Only, and the best one, right? If I sat in, it would only be temporary. And I'd probably need to keep calling every five minutes to ask what to do next..."

His laugh was an easy one. "Oh, right. _That_ sounds like you..." Max saw no rancor in his amazing eyes, but the affection and care that she'd seen from him, more and more often, when they were alone like this. Softer now, but still warmly, he offered, "but you know, there's no time limit on the question, Max. If you decide you want to try something that takes a degree, or some training or preparation – you know I'll help you get there, right? It ought to be about time you get a choice for yourself..."

_A choice for myself ... how long has it been since I found the answer to that? _"What if I chose this?" She whispered, letting her eyes glance meaningfully around the kitchen, around the penthouse, and back to his, taking him in.

And in surprise, the complicated man licked his lips uncertainly before daring to ask, "Max ... you mean ... 'this,'" he managed. " ...us?"

She nodded. "You said 'complete dream life, no holds barred...'" She shrugged again, and apologized, "If those are still the rules..."

Logan let doubt nibble at him for only the barest of seconds before he lifted his open palm to her, slowly, almost afraid to move that much for fear of scaring the dream away. "Those are still the rules," he said softly. "And it's already yours..." He felt his smile begin to return, slowly, cautiously, as she took his hand, and he spoke again. "Next request...?"

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

**A/N: **if any of you wish to vote: I'm not sure that the ending, with Max saying she wanted them to be an "us," isn't out of place or abrupt. I'll happily take votes: keep it or lose it? Thanks to those who offer an opinion...!


	6. Lilmouse: Evasive Manoeuvers

**Lilmouse**: Here is my response to the 'Tinker, Tailor' Challenge.

**Title: 'Evasive Manoeuvres'**

The opening italics are the close of the first chapter, provided by Shywr1ter. :)

I have set this story after "Blah Blah, Woof Woof". **AU.** I play a bit here, exploring a language that is new to me, though I have consulted an expert. :) I apologize and accept responsibility for any errors.

I have too many ideas and not enough time to implement them all. Let's see where this one takes me…

My thanks to Alaidh, who has agreed to give this effort a once over. I promise I won't turn this one into a multi-chapter story, lol:D

My thanks to Shywr1ter, for proposing this idea and getting the ball rolling.

** E/N: **Apologies to Lilmouse and all of you for the delay in posting this chapter, which I received a couple days ago. My computer gets indigestion when asked to work with a document in Word...

Enjoy!  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_He smiled, softly, in recognition. "Is that what you'd want to do, really? If you did, I think it could be arranged..." At her continuing discomfort, he added, with a soft, wry grin, "At least you've proven you have good memory skills to bring to a job, as well." He hadn't wanted to make this an issue, or upset her, but his work was so important to him, defined for himself who he was, that he'd been struck by the sudden awareness of Max's lack of freedom to make such a choice for herself – and his apparent failure to even consider it before. "Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"_

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

But the words failed her.

How could she tell him that one of her dreams would take her away from Seattle?

_Away from him?_

Instead, she picked up the cutting board of vegetables and placed it beside the stove.

"Anythin' else for me to chop?"

"Max -"

"Think we've got enough zucchini?"

"_Max -"_

"Well," she said, and Logan waited patiently for something else to follow.

When nothing seemed immediately forthcoming, he prompted gently, "Well?"

"I'll set the table." She was keeping it light and casual, as if the meal preparation was routine and tricky, potentially life-changing questions hadn't been asked. There was an underlying tension, like a spring waiting for release.

It was then that Logan realized she had an answer for him but was obviously having difficulty expressing herself.

_Hmmm._

Max had opened the cutlery drawer and was spending an inordinate amount of time finding two knives and two forks for dinner. They didn't really need the knives - they were having stir-fry, after all - but he didn't say anything when she finally chose some. His question lingered between them briefly before slinking into a corner. He hadn't intended to put her on the spot. The conversation had just… happened. Sighing, he decided to focus on the sauce. Maybe once she was fed Max would feel more like communicating about such elusive creatures as dreams and desires. He hesitated, mentally reviewing the items he'd already added, trying to continue from where his thoughts had digressed.

_Teriyaki, ginger, garlic…_

The sound of shifting china jarred him from the litany of ingredients. Cutlery settled in the pocket of her jacket for easier transport to the table, Max now seemed equally challenged when it came to selecting plates. He shook his head, as if to dislodge a cloud. _Ah, green onions. Right in front of you, Cale._ These were added to the sauce and whisked in thoroughly. Logan placed the bowl in his lap and wheeled towards the stove with the practised ease of someone very familiar with his kitchen space. Cooking was something the chair hadn't been able to take away from him.

He shifted the skillet from the counter to the burner and turned on the heat. Sesame oil was at the ready and he was armed with his favourite spatula. The vegetables Max prepared were to his right and the rice in the steamer had less than ten minutes to go before fluffy perfection. He decided to take a moment to deal with the discomfort that had settled between them like stale air.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." She had the cupboard door open so he couldn't see her face. Two large bowls, appropriate for the meal, were in her hands. "What size plate do we need?"

"Any size will be fine," he replied evenly, watching her closely.

"Okay. Just wasn't sure what you wanted," she stated, and continued to stand there staring, apparently, at the back of the cupboard, lost in thought.

"As long as it holds food."

"Okay." The bowls were placed on the counter and she started fiddling with something inside the cupboard.

He tested the skillet with a bit of oil: not ready yet. _Let's see if she's paying attention…_

"Come to think of it," he mused, "regular plates might not be enough. Octopus takes up a lot of room."

"Okay." A small stack of side plates emerged and she held them in one hand while she rearranged the contents of one of the shelves. He didn't know what she was doing, exactly, beyond avoiding his question. It was as if she was functioning on automatic, keeping herself busy while her mind drifted.

_Or scrambled frantically for something to say_, he thought.

"And… the crabs might fight back. We'll need a deep bucket so they can't crawl out."

The side plates were returned to a higher shelf - he noted she had to stretch to reach it - and a few ramekins were next on the counter. He had no idea how Max thought he was going to reach those plates now. The sound of heavy china being pushed around was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Logan winced but it didn't seem to bother her.

"Okay." It was her standard response, regardless of the nonsense he uttered.

The oil started to sizzle. Logan lifted the cutting board and scraped its contents into the skillet: zucchini, mushrooms, onions, snow peas, and yellow squash. He pursed his lips, added more oil and rapidly stirred the vegetables, deciding to choose a wilder approach.

"And for dessert," he said nonchalantly, "I thought I'd just cover you with whipped cream and lick it off."

That cost him a ramekin.

It left the counter and hit the floor, smashing with a quick, clean 'splot'. Someone with Max's heightened reflexes should have been able to catch it before it fell, but then someone like Max probably wouldn't have knocked it over in the first place. He watched her move with his peripheral vision. She closed the cupboard door abruptly, grabbed a dustpan and broom he kept on hand and crouched to deal with the porcelain remnants. Her eyes hadn't left his face the entire time.

Logan glanced over the top of his glasses at her before returning to the art of cooking. One hand poured the sauce he'd made into the skillet as the other tossed the contents vigorously. It only took three minutes to finish, assuming you liked your vegetables to be a little crisp - which he did. Then he'd lower the heat and let them simmer in the sauce for a few more minutes.

"Did you just say what I _think_ you just said?" Her voice was pitched a bit higher than usual. He'd chosen the image of Max and whipped cream at random, hoping to get her attention with the outrageous scenario, but now it had _his_ attention. _Don't go there, Cale. You're not like that, remember?_

"That depends on what you think I just said." He turned the heat down and let the vegetables simmer. The sauce smelled delicious, the rice would announce its completion with a delicate 'ping' at any moment and wine was chilling in the fridge.

The company, however, was agitated. _Agitated. Makes her sound like clothing going through the wash cycle. And I'm supposed to be good with words._ Logan sighed.

Max scraped up most of the porcelain in one swipe with the broom and dumped the remains into the garbage. "I _think_ you just said 'and for dessert, I thought I'd just cover you with whipped cream and lick it off.'"

"So you were paying attention," he commented quietly. Max stood and looked away. "I thought I'd lost you there for a sec."

That was too close to home, it appeared. "I'm still here," she said quietly, and returned the dustpan and broom to their place.

_Ah_. He cleared his throat.

"Max, if you had the choice to be _anywhere_ right now, where would it be?"

He was almost afraid of the answer. _That's what I get for thinking too much and bringing up the topic in the first place._

"Right here's good." She smiled. He could tell it was strained but that she was hoping he wouldn't notice. _You're a trained soldier but I'm a journalist, Max. You aren't the only one who notices the details._ "Good food, good company and -" She placed a hand on the door of the fridge, indicating she knew the contents well. "- good wine. What sane girl would pass that up?"

Logan regarded her for a moment. He didn't want to be condescending or patronizing. He didn't want to be rude or pry where he wasn't welcome. He genuinely wanted to know what she would do if there was nothing to stop her, and he thought she'd understood that.

_Which could mean that she believes her answer is something I don't want to hear._

The stir-fry was ready. He concentrated on transferring it to a clean bowl. The silence hugged them closely to the point where it was almost claustrophobic. The rice 'pinged' a moment later. Max filled the dinner bowls about halfway and carried them to the table. Logan followed with the bowl of vegetables in his lap, a towel underneath so the heat couldn't damage anything where he no longer would feel a burn. His spatula would do for serving. She removed the cutlery from her pocket, set a knife and fork on either side of both placemats, shed her jacket and slid onto the chair.

It was a sign to Logan that at least she wasn't planning to bolt just yet.

He locked his brakes and set the bowl and spatula between them. He reached for his glass only to find it wasn't there and sighed with some exasperation. "I'm sorry, Max, I forgot about the wine. Do you mind -"

"I'm on it." And she was, moving at a speed the human eye could follow but only just. He heard the fridge door open and the clattering of items being moved aside, then she was back. Two glasses and a bottle of wine appeared on the table beside him. He'd barely had time to take a few breaths since her departure. Max extended the corkscrew to him, raising her eyebrows with an expression that said, "You do the honours". She returned to her seat and watched him remove the cork, sniff it and pour the wine. When he was done, he noted her eyes were fixed on the label.

"It's Italian," he said. "'Villa Arceno Arguzzio 1998, Toscana', from -"

"Tuscany," they said together.

"I got that," she added. Max moved her gaze from the label to his eyes. "I've never been there," she stated quietly.

And then Logan knew. He blinked and started to smile. "Travel? You… you want to travel?"

Max served herself some vegetables. "I hear it's a great big world out there," she said, sounding more comfortable. "I've seen pictures and watched documentaries and -" She lifted her glass. "- tasted the wine, but I've only been to parts of the north western United States." She took a sip and poked at the food with her fork. Logan tipped some vegetables over his rice and set the bowl aside. "Might be nice to visit the vineyard in Tuscany where they made this stuff, or see Paris in the spring or London in the rain or - hell, even find out what they do for kicks on a Saturday night in Cancun."

"I travelled a bit, before the Pulse." Logan swallowed a mouthful of food before taking a sip of wine, looking thoughtful. "Some of those trips were with my parents." He shook his head and laughed softly. "One big trip in particular… Can you imagine me at the age of _nine_, appreciating the ballet in Kiev or the opera in Rome? Or traipsing around the pyramids?"

"You've been to the pyramids?"

Logan continued to eat and encouraged Max with a nod towards her bowl to do so as well, though it appeared her attention had been diverted from food.

"We did a family trip to all the 'important' places in Europe and Northern Africa in 1997. Took two months out of school." He smiled broadly at the memory. "That was great. My parents decided it would be a good learning experience. Egypt was amazing and the ruins of Pompeii…" He thought of that particular excursion. The sun had been hot and dry and the excavated city was eerily still but for the gaping tourists, most of them speaking in hushed tones out of respect. His parents had marvelled at the site as much as he had and encouraged him to ask the guide when he had a question. Young Logan Cale had done just that, needing to know everything about the day a city was silenced so long ago. He recalled thinking at the time that he'd become an archaeologist. _Dreams…_

He realized he'd been quiet for a while. He cleared his throat and said, "I was nine. Some of it just washed over me." He shrugged. "For example, the Louvre was interesting but for some reason I was expecting the Mona Lisa to be larger."

"Wow. Betcha I could fence that for a lotta cash right now."

He returned his gaze to the present and Max. Her voice sounded a little flat, not nearly as enthusiastic about the thought of purloining a fine piece of art as she had on previous occasions. She sat across the table from him, eyes wide, listening to his childhood memory of being able to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with parents who cared about him. The number 'nine' echoed in his head, trying to connect with a particular point of importance. He lifted his glass to take another sip and stopped before it reached his lips.

_Max was nine when she escaped from Manticore._

_Damn._

"It was a different time," he said awkwardly.

"Did you have a private jet, too? Someone to carry your luggage?" This wasn't said with any bitterness or with any particular interest. It was as if she was just logging the details for future reference, like she planned to write a book about it someday and wanted to ensure she had all the facts straight.

"We… had the company jet, yes. But I carried my own bags."

"Hunh," Max said, and gulped some wine. She put the glass down and continued to eat, her face lowered to stare at the food.

Logan sighed. "Max, do you or don't you want to do some travelling? You could start with the U.S., if you like, as a warm-up. Catch a show on Broadway, visit Mount Rushmore, watch Old Faithful blow on schedule -"

She interrupted him with a dismissive gesture using the hand holding her fork. "This travelogue is fascinating but the good ol' U.S. of A. ain't what it used to be. I could be picked up by Manticore at any time. Just paint a bull's-eye on my back."

"Max -"

"Besides…" She focussed on her glass of wine and sighed. "Besides," she repeated softly, "I can get a hot dog anywhere."

Logan stopped trying to eat his dinner. He set the fork down on the table, drained his wine glass for courage and unlocked his brakes. Max looked at him then, with her eyes only, face still lowered. _Wary._ He parked beside her and locked the brakes again.

"As a courier," he said carefully, "you could travel on special errands around the country. We talked earlier about Sketchy and how a courier can get better access -"

"For who?"

"What?" He hated being interrupted, especially when he wasn't entirely sure where he was taking a topic.

"'Special errands' for who?"

"For me. I need to send stuff and get stuff," he continued a bit vaguely, uncertain about the details but unwilling to let this slide. "Like any other customer. Normal probably wouldn't mind the extra money for one of his people to go out-of-state on a -"

"_Your_ money?"

This wasn't working out as he'd hoped. He swiftly reviewed the conversation and said, "You want to go to Italy, don't you?"

"It doesn't have to be Italy but -"

"Somewhere Manticore wouldn't be likely to have the resources for a search?"

She looked at him then, turned in her chair and let her fork lie on the edge of her bowl. Her eyes were sombre.

"Logan, you've shown me what it's like to care about people, to make a difference. I've always known there was a world out there but it was too risky to try to explore." She placed one hand on his arm, tentative, as if she were afraid he'd reject her touch. The other hand went behind the wheelchair, without touching his shoulders. It was almost an embrace. "Now I've met some of the people, had a better taste of what it might be like to be 'normal'." Their eyes met. "Because of you."

Logan wasn't sure what to say so he remained silent, watching her intently as she worked through her thoughts.

"I'd like to do something normal, though I don't need the two thousand dollar watch. I want to see Tuscany and climb the Eiffel Tower and tour the pyramids, like folks did before the Pulse."

"They probably still do," he said, covering her hand with his. "But not as many people can afford it. Not from the States, anyway." He squeezed her hand to emphasize his next statement. "I have the money. Let me do this for you."

Max started. "But gettin' outta the country -"

"Shouldn't be a problem." A smile teased the corners of his mouth. "If I can't use my Eyes Only contacts and my ID generator to get you to another continent, then what good am I?"

"But my job -"

"A month or two with 'Leave of Absence' shouldn't be too much to ask for one of his better couriers. And… I could make it worth his while to give you a holiday." He wasn't sure if that last bit was pushing the envelope of what she'd be willing to accept but he had to try. The desire was building to fulfill one of her dreams and he knew he had the skill, connections and money to make this happen.

"I mean, not that it's a brilliant job or anything," she continued. Logan could sense a panic gripping her. It seemed that the concept of travel as a possibility - just leisurely travel with no particular agenda or mission - was exciting and terrifying for Max. Logan was feeling elements of that himself. He could give her that freedom, if she really wanted it. No Manticore and essentially the chance for a new life.

And then she'd be gone.

His smile faded and he glanced down at his legs. _Even if she wanted the company, its not like I'd be able to climb the Eiffel Tower with her…_

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me, please." He did and his heart ached. She was smiling hesitantly, her face revealing a combination of disbelief and puzzled wonder. Perhaps she was finally allowing herself the chance to dream. "If you did this thing for me, if I was able to make it to Italy or France or wherever… would you come with me?"

"Nah." The question surprised him but he knew the answer. He moved both his hands to tap the rims of his wheels, dislodging her hold on his arm. He smiled ruefully. "I'd just slow you down. You can show me all your photos when you get back."

_If you decide to come back._

The response was familiar, to both of them, and reminded them how much they hated goodbyes. Their parting at the cabin had left each one with an ache they had thought would never be healed. "You could take your time coming back though." He tried a smile. "I've got you covered."

"You wouldn't slow me down. You could… share this with me." She seemed suddenly shy, like she was trying to help him make his offer and her acceptance as painless as possible. "You'd really do this for me?"

The look on her face made his heart race. _For you, Max. I'd risk the possibility that you wouldn't return to Seattle if I could make you happy._

"I would. Like that." He raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.

"Then come with me."

"I can't."

Max caught his wrist and held it firmly when he tried to pull free. He frowned slightly. _"Max -"_

If she heard the warning tone, she ignored it.

"It isn't the chair. I won't let you use that one on me. We both know you're quite capable and have adapted well. So is it Eyes Only? You won't leave the crusade and your very capable network of associates to run it so you can take a break for a while?"

His shoulders straightened under the attack. "I have responsibilities -"

"That's crap, Logan." Her eyes narrowed. "A wise man I know once said, 'The world will still be broken in the morning.' He was right, but he isn't too good at listening to his own advice sometimes."

He gave his arm a good tug. It hurt when it met with resistance. "Max, let go."

"Then it's me, isn't it?" The hurt crept through her anger to reveal itself in her face. "You'd spend money like water and call in favours and work hard to get me a solid ID so I could 'see the world', but you wouldn't actually want to spend time with me."

She released his wrist and left the table so quickly she was standing by the large living room windows, facing the drizzly night before his hand had dropped to his lap. Her back was to him and her arms were folded protectively across her chest in a tense, visual representation of her pain.

_But she hasn't moved towards the door yet…_

Recognizing opportunities and second chances wasn't always Logan's forte, but he saw this one clearly. Max wanted to travel. To Italy. To anywhere.

With him.

_If I don't follow her lead and accept that this might be real, I'll lose her tonight._ He knew that, without a doubt, and wasn't certain if he should be thanking his skills as a journalist, his heart or his gut instinct for spurring him onward.

He'd worry about that later.

Logan unlocked his brakes and approached the window. He swallowed hard. He was good with words, all right, but after the messy relationship with Val, he hadn't let anyone get close enough to matter so certain words weren't necessary. After being paralysed, the wheelchair had been a convenient excuse for keeping anyone at a distance. It was like armour and helped protect him from words that could shatter him more than a bullet had, right to the core. Words that involved vulnerability and difficult emotions like love didn't come easily to him - not anymore.

He stopped beside her and looked up. "It would take some planning," he began quietly, wondering at the sound of his own voice as it calmly discussed something he thought would never be possible. Well, there was a slight quaver but he hoped she wouldn't notice that aspect as he continued to talk. "We wouldn't be leaving next week or anything. I'd need time to put people I trust in place. Get Bling, if he'll do it, to act as the central contact. Build a secure identity for you and make sure all our papers were filled out properly." In the reflection of the glass before them, her eyes slid to regard him silently. He decided to take that as a good sign, ignored the sheen of sweat he could feel on his forehead as his nerves expressed their concern and forged ahead before his courage failed. "Wouldn't want any delays at the airport. They never have the type of snack food I like."

Max turned then, her eyes challenging him to stay the course and not disappoint her.

_Disappoint either of them._

After a long pause, she asked, "Do you know any Italian?"

"A little. I backpacked through Europe with a few friends in the summer of oh-five." He'd been sixteen-almost-seventeen that year and the trip had been one of the best experiences of his life.

Logan locked his brakes, offered his hand to Max and she took it, her face showing surprise when he pulled her into his lap. She resisted at first, possibly not believing it but eventually settled without leaning against him, spine straight, a part of her obviously still angry. At least she didn't try to free her hand, as he hand done. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had. She seemed to be waiting for something, though. He wasn't sure what but made a decision and took a chance.

Logan was tired and drained by the evening's turn of events, but he wanted her to know how he felt. If this were too much for her, if she didn't feel the same way about him, he'd still give her the trip, no strings attached. He hoped she knew that. If she really wanted to be with him, and that was her choice, given the givens, then now was the moment of truth - for both of them.

"Come sei bella." He reached up with his free hand and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She shivered. "Ti penso sempre. Tu sei una stella… la mia stella." His Italian was rusty - when had he last used it? - but he thought she wouldn't mind.

He pushed some of her hair back from her face and whispered words he dared not speak in English. "Tu sei un angelo... il mio angelo."

Her eyes closed briefly and the hand he held curled into a fist. "That's pretty good." She opened her eyes again and a slow grin developed. "Can you order from the menu, too?"

"_And_ know what I've ordered." He smiled hesitantly. "Do you… Do you know what I just said?"

"Oh, yeah. I've picked up a few phrases, here and there." She leaned in so the tip of her nose was almost touching his. "Fa cosi caldo qui o e la tua presenza?" Logan coloured at that question but let his smile grow.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "È tu," he said simply.

Their lips met quite naturally after that and parted only when breathing became an issue. Max had wrapped herself around him, hugging him fiercely as if this might be a dream and she didn't want to let go.

He could live with that.

"Max… voi realmente desiderio essere con me?"

"Si." She swallowed and added, "Voglio passare il resto della mia vita con te."

He kissed her again, enjoying the taste of wine on her tongue. When they parted, he said huskily, "You'll like Italy."

"I wanna see the pyramids, too." Her eyes were shining. He suspected his were similar in brightness. _Must be the wine_, he thought vaguely, knowing well that he was dealing with the reality of Max in his arms, a personal dream come true. Surely anyone would become emotional at a moment like this?

"Bast would approve."

"Probably." She placed her head on his shoulder. "We've had a busy night."

He nodded and stroked her arm with his hand. He wasn't abandoning Eyes Only, just taking a break - probably the most important break of his life. "Look where a little daydreaming has taken us?"

"Yeah." The rain was hitting the window harder now, wind whipping the water against the glass. There was a brief flash of lightning, like someone taking their picture for posterity and thunder rumbled in the distance. "Guess we have some planning to do."

"Guess we do."

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?" Holding her was very pleasant and he was delighted that she didn't seem to mind.

She lifted her head and faced him, her expression determined. "I just have one question that we have to sort out immediately."

He tensed. He'd hoped that any remaining difficult topics could wait until morning. All he wished to do was spend time with the incredible woman who, when asked what she wanted to do with her life, had opted to share it with him.

"Go ahead," he said, wary of the look in her eyes.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the can of whipped cream, which she produced with a flourish from somewhere behind his wheelchair. _How did that get there?_

With a quirk of her eyebrow, she asked, "Do I get my dessert _now_ or are you going to make me eat my vegetables first?"

- End -

**Come sei bella** - How beautiful you are.

**Ti penso sempre** - I always think of you.

**Tu sei una stella...la mia stella** - You are a star...my star.

**Tu sei un angelo... il mio angelo**. – You are an angel… my angel.

**Fa cosi caldo qui o e la tua presenza?** – Is it hot in here, or is it just you?

**È tu**. – It is you.

**Voi realmente desiderio essere con me?** – You really wish to be with me?

**Si.** – Yes.

**Voglio passare il resto della mia vita con te.** – I want to spend the rest of my life with you.


	7. Reilynn: Eyes Only 2

By Reilynn...

xoxox

Eyes Only 2

xoxox

_He smiled, softly, in recognition. "Is that what you'd want to do, really? If you did, I think it could be arranged..." At her continuing discomfort, he added, with a soft, wry grin, "at least you've proven you have good memory skills to bring to a job, as well." He hadn't wanted to make this an issue, or upset her, but his work was so important to him, defined for himself who he was, that he'd been struck by the sudden awareness of Max's lack of freedom to make such a choice for herself – and his apparent failure to even consider it before. "Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"_

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

xoxox

"Why do you ask?" she asked hesitantly.

"I want to help you," he answered sincerely.

Max looked at the good, noble man sitting before her. Longing, too long suppressed and more powerful than any she had ever known, swamped her. "You don't know what you are asking," she stammered.

Logan smiled benevolently at her. "Max, with as much as you have done for me and for the informant net, I think that I can spend a few minutes or a few hours or even a few days helping you." Logan waited, but patience was not one of the many virtues that either of them had in abundance. Logan broke the silence first. "There is something?" he probed.

"Yeah," she confessed. Embarrassed by her almost-confession and uncertain how to deal with the intimacy, Max turned to look out the window. The familiar routine was somehow comforting; a reminder that she couldn't ever really let her guard down. Her life, such as it was, depended on constant vigilance.

"What?" Logan asked. Unaware of the uncomfortable direction of her thoughts, he pressed on. He monitored her body language and formulated probing questions, just as he had as a simple investigative journalist, a lifetime ago. The familiar routine was somehow comforting; a reminder of more pleasant times when the press had been free.

Max shook her head. _He doesn't want to know_, she was certain.

"Max, I want to help."

Iron discipline prevented Max from groaning at the mental image his offer produced. "No," she stated flatly but never turned to look at him.

Logan rose to this challenge as he had with so many other reluctant sources before, never dreaming the bombshell that this one was trying desperately **not** to drop on him; a very personal, very powerful, very sensitive bombshell that would upend his awfully shriveled self-image.

"'No' what? Max, I do want to help you."

"Not with this," she asserted flatly.

_How could she think that?_ Logan wondered. "You plotting on killing someone?"

Max turned to look at him. Her shocked expression clearly conveyed that wasn't the case, but Logan continued the line of questioning hoping to be corrected. He gave a thoughtful shrug. "Not that you haven't known a lot of people who deserve it."

"No!" Max protested.

"Then why won't you tell me?" Logan challenged.

"I don't think you would want to help me with this." Max managed to get out past the difficult images of Logan helping her.

"I do."

Max stifled a groan. "To be blunt, I don't think you can." She glances briefly at his legs then out the window again.

Logan didn't like that. He knew how much of a struggle everything was to him now, but he had never given her any indication that his injury stopped him from doing anything. "You would be amazed at what I can still do," he stated more coolly than he really would have liked.

"Really?" she dared.

"Really!" he affirmed.

"Any dream?" she asked.

"Any dream," he confirmed.

"That's cool." She smiled for him, but said nothing else. She continued gazing out into the sky, as if it might hold some hidden wisdom.

Eventually Logan's patience gave out. "Max, what do you want?"

She turned to face Logan; her soft smile grew ever so slightly. She slowly lowered herself unto the sofa, directly in front of him. Her knees were touching his, not that he could feel it. Max stared at her hands while she gathered her courage. She placed her right hand on his left knee; Logan could see, but not feel, her longed-for touch.

She took a deep breath and blurted, "I want a baby."

Logan tried to say something but no sound was forthcoming.

Max proceeded to explain in a rush. "I've always wanted family. My family. I spent the past ten years searching for anyone that may have escaped with me because I considered them to be my family. Then I finally hook up with Zack only to discover that he, and presumably the rest of them, don't feel the same way. So… if I can't find my family, or they don't want to be family, then my only option is to **make** one."

They sat in silence for a few seconds. A slow smile crept over Max's features.

"So, it still works?" Max ventured. She placed her hand on Logan's knee, and slowly started pushing her hand up towards … more of Logan.

" … what …?" Logan finally managed to force air out of his lungs.

A completely neutral expression immediately manifested itself on her face. She warily looked up into Logan's face and immediately froze at his expression. She misinterpreted his shock for horror. _I suppose the thought of sleeping with someone from another species could be considered pretty …_ she abandoned that too painful line of thought.

Neither could move.

Logan desperately tried to think of some way out of this. _She was right. I can't help her with this. _Tragically the thought of how many other men would be ready, willing and able to help her with that caused pain to flicker across his features. He tried to hide it, because he knew he had no right to feel that way, but she saw it before it disappeared nonetheless.

Max frantically tried to think of some way out of this. _What was I thinking? Oh, that's right I WASN'T thinking._ There wasn't any way to explain her way out of this one. Sadly, Max could only think of one way to get them both out of this situation without losing the companionship of the only man she'd ever trusted. The only man she'd ever admired. The only man that she'd ever even thought about having a baby with; the only one she'd ever … loved. Finally, desperately, unfortunately, she thought of one, and only one, way to salvage what relationship they did have, even if it was only an uneasy friendship.

She laughed.

Logan's letting out an immense sigh, which Max mistakenly assumed was one of relief, only confirmed Max's insecurities.

"That was not funny, Max." Logan tried to be stern.

"You wouldn't say that if you could have seen your face. I wish I'd had a camera." Max flashed him her best smile. _Act happy. Acting, lying, you've lots of experience with this, Max. You should be good at it by now._

One more soft chuckle and she told Logan to "Hurry up with dinner. I'm going to go clean up." She smiled at him as she went to the bathroom.

Logan was too preoccupied with his own turmoil to notice that she took much longer in there than Max ever had before.

xoxox

Dinner was a quiet, almost strained affair. Logan was grateful that he had prepared a desert. More grateful for the quiet to contemplate the lovely mystery that he knew as Max. He had correctly concluded that there was more than one grain of truth in what she had said. He was completely wrong about which grains.

"Desert?" he asked rhetorically.

"You have to ask?" Max immediately started towards the fridge.

"Not really. I'll get it." Mischief gleamed in his eyes as he cut off Max and went to the kitchen to retrieve the treat; leaving Max to wonder how offended he was by her earlier 'joke'.

He returned a few minutes later with a covered tray.

Max looked at him curiously and waited as patiently as she could for some explanation.

Logan grinned and ceremoniously uncovered the tray. "Ta da!"

Max burst out laughing.

"Chocolate Mouse Mousse! I've wanted to make this for you since I met you, but only just got the chocolate and the fresh crème."

Max couldn't help but laugh at the two plates of what was obviously Chocolate Mousse, shaped into a mouse with chocolate chip eyes and thin shaving of dark chocolate for ears and what appeared to be a line of chocolate syrup for a tail.

Max's delight was everything Logan had hoped for.

"Thank you, Logan." She pounced on hers and used the ear as a scoop to take a bite. Her "Mmmm" sounded suspiciously like a purr to both of them, but neither needed another awkward subject.

Logan watched Max savor his gift for a few moments.

"It's good," Max assured him when she finally noticed that he wasn't eating.

"I'm glad you like it." Logan made no move to start his, so Max tried a different tactic.

"You gonna eat yours?" she asked mischievously.

"You can have it if you want it, Max." Logan continued to smile benevolently at Max. It was starting to make her nervous.

"Logan, is something wrong?"

He shook his head.

"If I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"You didn't."

Logan waited as long as he could, but now Max was nearly done with her mouse. He sighed and plunged into a conversation he really didn't want to have. "You were right." Logan broke off, pained. Hoping that, perhaps, as brilliant as Max was she would understand.

She didn't. The puzzled look she gave him made that abundantly clear.

"I … can't. I can't help you … or anyone, with a baby. I mean …"

The pain on Logan's face was more than Max could bear. She even put down her chocolate. "Your injury is complete?" she supplied, trying to be helpful.

Logan nodded. "Yes."

Max went to him and took his hand in both of hers. "It's .." _It's what? It's OK? It's not OK. It's going to be fine? Not likely. It's all right? It's not right at all!_ Max knelt at his feet and held his hand up to her face. "I'm so sorry."

Max's sorrow distracted Logan from his own. "Max, this isn't about me. You are an … extraordinarily beautiful young woman."

_He really thinks I'm beautiful? Or is he just trying to comfort me?_

"You could easily find someone who would be willing and able to …"

"No!" Max interrupted him.

"I'm just saying you could …"

"Could what? Find someone I trust? Someone who is okay with a little feline in my cocktail? The fact that I was whipped up in a Petri dish? No."

Max terse words only confirmed for Logan that there had been more truth than not in her dream. "You can't really believe that?"

"Logan, I don't trust anyone else."

"You trust Bling." _Max and Bling? Good idea Cale, can you think of anything MORE painful? No? That figures._

"I suppose I trust him, a bit. But he's … just not my type."

_I am?_ Logan was back to reeling. _That was how I managed to get close to her in the first place. She doesn't still feel that way? After I played her in front of the mirror? After the chair?_

Oblivious to Logan's thoughts, Max continued. "Besides, I thought one earring in the left ear meant he was gay?"

Logan hadn't been caught off guard so often since … he had never been caught off guard so often. "I have no idea," he stammered. _No ideas would be an improvement over the last few ideas._

Silence engulfed them as they each tried to decide what would be the right thing to do.

Max tried to stand, but Logan held on to her hand in his. "Max, how serious were you?"

The pained look, that left as quickly as it came, told Logan the answer to that question. "Kinda. I mean, I want … I wanted my family. Someone to be my family. It seemed like everyone else had some. You wouldn't have thought it was … so much to ask. But …" Max closed her eyes, gathering her composure. "I don't even know if Chimeras and Humans are compatible. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to a baby to afflict it with DNA even half as screwed up as mine is."

"Max! That's not true."

"Why did you even ask?" She lashed out in her pain.

"I want to help." He said simply, only after it was out did the implications occur to him, but he wasn't backing down.

Max knelt at his feet again. She looked up at him with hope and fear and doubt and devotion and tears in her eyes. "You were horrified," she protested, needing his denial.

He gave it. "I was shocked."

"You … really want to help?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"I can't," he confessed.

"That is not what I asked," she insisted.

"I want to help you with that more than anything in the world, but–" Logan stopped as Max crawled up into his lap and wrapped her lithe limbs around him.

"Do you want me?" her disbelief forced her to seek confirmation.

"Yes, but …"

"Shhhh. You've already said everything that needed to be said." Max precluded further discussion with a series of scorching kisses and proceeded to the non-verbal portion of the evening.

xoxox

Logan wasn't certain how they had made it to the sofa. He wasn't certain how he'd gotten Max's top off. He had no clue where his shirt was and he was fairly certain that Max had gotten at least half of his mousse as they ate the chocolate off of each other over the rest of the evening. As the first rays of dawn peeked into the penthouse, two new lovers regretfully disentangled from the other to face the new day.

Logan was genuinely happy, for the first time since his injury. Max was truly content, for the first time in her life.

"Logan, I know your injury makes everything complicated. My DNA can be just as bad. I'm strong. I'm smart. I can handle it. We can figure everything out." Max assured him as she placed his wheelchair by his side.

"I know we will. Together." Logan smiled.

xoxox

Author's note: OK This is all Shywriter's fault!

Editor's note: _Mea culpa –_and I'm delighted to take the blame. Love it, love it, love it, love it...


	8. Mari83: Revenge

**Mari**: _Revenge_

**A/N:** I had this persistent little idea ever since Reilynn had Logan asking "You plotting on killing someone?" in her second, "Eyes 2" reply (and no, nobody's going to be killed, just one of my weird associations…).

Many thanks to Shywriter for finding mistakes and providing a very much appreciated different perspective on things.

(Editor's note: Thanks for the challenge response, Mari! What a great addition to the replies the challenge has gotten so far!)

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

﻿ _"Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?" _

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"Get them."

Max hadn't meant to say that aloud, by no means. Yet this treacherous little half-sentence had escaped her lips after a short moment of being lost in Logan's expectant, gentle eyes, not much more than a mumble, but still extracting a puzzled "What?" from him. She cringed, wishing she could just stuff the words back into her mouth.

_See Max, this happens if you stay around a place too long. You relax into doing stupid things. Let your guard down. Dumb, dumb, dumb._

"Sorry Max, what did you say?" Logan's voice interrupting her self-incrimination as he remembered his manners, momentarily forgotten with her somewhat obscure answer.

"Nothing." Her reply came quickly, the casual voice delivering it just the tiniest bit too high-pitched to be convincing. Avoiding his gaze, Max hoped if she just pretended _nothing_ had happened, he maybe would have the kindness to join her act and would not use his remarkable abilities to get behind her defenses. She was well aware that such behavior wasn't exactly the most mature thing to do – but perhaps this way he wouldn't try to drag her most secret thoughts out of the back corners of her mind, where she kept them with deliberate caution.

But of course her little pretending game didn't work. Whether it was just simple curiosity or his over-sized case of helper-syndrome, Max knew only that from the moment he'd posed his question, preparing their meal was the last thing on Logan's mind. Admittedly, whatever it was that drove him, he reined it in, was wise enough not to press her any further as he just silently continued to watch her. Face thoughtful but controlled, he gave her the look that, as she very well knew, would eventually make her melt down and give in. So to avoid being tricked by those darned compassionate eyes, Max picked up the head of lettuce lying on the counter in front of her to subject it to a scrutinizing inspection.

_Good. Keep your cool. Help him make dinner. After all, that's what you came over for, a nice warm dinner with your own personal meal ticket._

_Yeah right… And Normal is going to win the competition for friendliest boss …_

"Max…" Again Logan's gentle voice cut into her thoughts.

So finally she peered over to him – but only to deliver another attempt at throwing him off. "Really Logan, it's nothing. Least of all a fitting answer to your question… And silly, anyway", she added, stressing her words with a dismissive wave of her hand.

_And totally, utterly impossible._

"And yet it was the first thing that came to your mind," he pointed out, his damned logic hard to contradict. The salad was ripped into little pieces as his typical stubbornness left her with two equally unwelcome options: explaining the crazy notion that had flashed up at his question… or simply rush out of the door, up onto the Space Needle. Both would disrupt their previously nice, comfortable evening and make things awkward between them for the next few days. No way out of this dilemma.

Trapped.

The caged look on Max's face hadn't escaped Logan and her obvious discomfort provoked a sudden, heavy surge of guilty conscience. But he couldn't help himself, he just wanted to know what was going on inside her head, wanted to support her with whatever dream she had. Torn between two alternatives as well – dropping the topic or pushing her with more questions – Logan came up with the compromise that he wouldn't apply more pressure than keeping up that steady, patient look, which he hoped offered the right measure of understanding.

And he was rewarded. After another silent moment of nervously rocking back and forth on her heels, Max eventually spoke, in a low, hesitant mumble. "It's not exactly what I want do with my life but…" A sigh, then "…if I really could have my dream life this would be part of it." She hadn't once glanced over to him, but instead still intently concentrated on the lettuce in her hands

The sight of Max so unlike her normal, self-assured self unsettled Logan, enforced that nagging feeling of guilt at making her feel uneasy. It made him wheel over to gently take the frazzled remains of what had once been a fine specimen of the nowadays so hard to find fresh produce, letting his hand rest on hers lightly after doing so.

"Actually, that was part my question". His contradiction was soft, reassuring, encouraging her to go on. "Something you would do if everything was possible."

Max's gaze had flickered down to his hand at the first contact, then up for short, wary, glance directly into his eyes and back down to where his long fingers covered hers. He'd gotten through her defenses. Again. Still feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what she was to do, Max withdraw her hand from under his, instead griping the counter behind her. Right then, its cool marble was far more reliable than all the human warmth of Logan, who could decide any moment that putting up with her strange behavior was too much.

Restraining the disappointment and confusion caused by her abrupt withdrawal, Logan watched Max's fight with herself, uncertain what to do, how to help her. Seconds turned into a minute, then two. With every fading instant Logan's worry grew that he'd taken things too far, had destroyed the delicate, fragile base of trust upon which their friendship was built. But then, after a moment of heavy silence, a decision was made. With a reversed nod Max's head came up and, in an intense mix of vulnerability and determination, her eyes pierced his. "I want to find the people from Manticore and get them for what they did to us."

Despite his intention to take everything she might say in stride, Logan couldn't hide the flicker of surprise crossing his features, the infinitesimal lifting of his eyebrows. His reaction made Max's expression harden further into something he could by now easily decipher as 'One wrong word, one arrogant comment and I'm out of here.' Afraid that his actions might result in exactly that, Logan picked his next words very carefully, all the while keeping up their eye contact. "There's nothing wrong with that, Max. It's only logical, a completely understandable reaction."

"I don't think you can _understand_, Logan," she snapped, face set in fierce determination, fighting down the tiny voice telling her that, maybe, there was a possibility that he, the normal, ordinary civilian, could be understanding of her freaky idea. _Or he'll just plain laugh at you._ Keeping up a cool, detached appearance, never showing how much she inwardly feared his answer, Max studied Logan, who'd been rendered speechless by her sharp accusation. Surprise and confusion now clearly visible on his face, he searched his mind for something to contradict her – but seemingly came up blank.

"Okay then, maybe I really don't understand," he conceded, voice soft, willing her to stay, to share her story – her life – with him, hoping he wasn't just imagining this strange connection between them. "But, Max… I could… if you told me, what Manticore was like for you."

But could he really? Apart from the cryptic remarks she let drop every now and then, he had no idea how her childhood had been – and, if it was up to her, things would be left at this secure stage. It was weird, she trusted Logan with her life, had been forced to trust him after he'd discovered her secret. And after a while, as she'd gotten to know him better, this wary, suspicious dependence on his trustworthiness had become genuine confidence. But still – showing him anything that set her apart from other people, making apparent her freakiness was something Max avoided, unsure of his reaction, scared of losing the one confidante she'd ever had.

However, she realized belatedly, this wasn't her choice anymore. She'd asked Logan to search for her siblings, and so, sooner or later, he would find out anyway. Weighing her options for another moment, Max finally came to the decision that telling him herself was much better than having him discover it all in Manticore's files. With a nervous glimpse over to where he sat, she turned, now leaning against the kitchen counter with her stomach, not wanting to face him for the upcoming discussion.

"Manticore wasn't some kind of miniature boot camp for kids, Logan. 'Some nice hide and seek games in the woods, a bit of drill and a fairy tale for the night from good old Deck...'"

Her tone was weary, oddly inapt for a person of barely twenty years. Then Max stopped altogether, at a loss how to show him, he who had grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, the reality of the first decade of her life.

Again a few seconds passed in silence. Eventually he threw in a cautious "I never assumed that," not wishing to disturb her now that she finally seemed ready to talk. And it seemed to be enough: the simple affirmation that he still was there, wasn't taken aback by the topic, gave Max the courage to continue.

"We weren't human beings for them." Now her voice was bare of any emotion, carrying the conventional, polite intonation of someone reading the weather forecast. "Only little science projects, who could be treated like cheap meat. 'You don't like it? It doesn't function like you want it to? Okay, then let's get rid of it and make a new one.' 'Curious about what happens if you break the bones, cut the nerves of your oversized lab rats? Interesting idea, go ahead and report me about the results.' 'You want to take a closer look at what exactly causes these annoying seizures? No problem, just kill it off.' That's what…"

_That's what happened to Jack._ With the near-slipping to a more personal, emotional level, Max's delivery came to an abrupt end. She'd almost spilled the highly intimate, unsettling detail that she, with her ever- threatening seizures, would probably have been the next one to make her way onto the dissection table.

Her emotionless report left it to Logan to connect these cold facts to her and her siblings, left it to his overactive imagination to conjure pictures of little children being tortured, killed for the sake of science and military advantage. It was left to his mind to create a disturbing picture of Max, small and helpless, strapped down to a bed and poked by white-coated, masked figures.

Again, silence. Max took a short peek over her shoulder, bracing herself for the look of horror she expected to see on Logan's face. Instead she found one of profound, sincere compassion that – almost – cracked her hard shell. "We weren't that strong, Logan. We did what they told us to do, obliged with whatever perverted idea they came up. You could say… that what happened was our own fault."

Once more this evening, Logan was at a loss for words. He knew that, theoretically, it wasn't that unlikely for victims of child abuse to blame themselves for what had happened to them. However, hearing it from Max, with her ever-tough facade, was surprising. Sitting there, with his hands balled into fist, Logan allowed his emotions to run free for a short, uncharacteristic moment: there were compassion and sadness about her unnecessary feelings of guilt – but, foremost and dominating, a feeling of overwhelming, infuriating helplessness at the thought of those who'd done this to her. But she'd opened up for him, he reminded himself as he took a deep, calming breath, and had given him the chance to show her how wrong she was. "But… you were children, Max, only innocent little children. It's amazing you survived at all. The mere fact that you were brave enough to escape, knowing they would kill you for it, is proof enough that you have more strength than most."

It was his Eyes Only voice that had delivered his reply. The voice that spoke of deep conviction, to know right from wrong; the voice that conveyed his unique ability to always see the good in people. And, while Max found it inexplicably hard to believe his words, simply to listen to the man in whose high morals Seattle believed, was comforting. And yet… his last statement had been too much, had – inadvertently – touched a sensitive point. She turned, a deliberate, slow movement, appraising him with a penetrating stare that told him not to speak of things he didn't understand. "We should have escaped earlier. We shouldn't have waited until two of us were killed."

Logan flinched, his face displaying all the emotions – distress, pain, regret – that she tried so hard not to show.

Aware she'd dumped on him her own guilt about failing her dead siblings, Max offered an apologetic smirk. "I guess all of us dreamed of some kind of revenge. Even while we were back at Manticore, when we just assumed this was how life is supposed to be, we had this absurd fantasy of reversing roles." She had turned back to face the window, the topic so sensitive she didn't dare even look in his direction. "I was no exception, always had this absurd little dream, that, one day, I would get them back. Answer violence with violence. It was the only thing I learned at Manticore and living out on the streets" Max shrugged, ashamed of admitting such savage feelings before Logan, who had dedicated his life to righting wrongs. Her voice trailed off, only hinting the direction her thoughts took when she was alone with a seizure, paralyzed by pain and fear, never knowing if one day her seizures would get so bad that no amount of tryptophan would help anymore… if, maybe, they would end her life before it had really started.

But she didn't want to bother him with all this. Most of all, Max didn't want him to know that she was terrified she might turn into the brainless killer Manticore had created her to be. Even in her darkest fantasies she never had let her mind wander further than merely finding those who were responsible for all this, knowing only too well what she was capable of.

"Max, really, I understand"– Logan quietly repeated his affirmation. She blinked at hearing his voice, her gaze for a short instant connecting with his, taking him in with a look of genuine fondness – and then completely surprised Logan with little, crooked smile. It mirrored, faintly, the euphoric, alleviating jolt of relief his reply had caused in her. He still was talking with her, even now that he knew that his occasional sarcastic remarks about her being a "genetically enhanced killing machine" were only too true. But there he sat, seeming unfazed by her uncommon past as well as by her insane fantasies of vengeance. He, who had stuck his neck out to try and protect the scumbag who tried, twice, to kill him. So she went on, finally verbalizing the one reason that had made her answer his question with "Get them."

"And then I got to know you, with your high ideals of justice and freedom and all, saw how you brought down the high and mighty for what they had done to ordinary, helpless people… and …" Her eyes were cast down, once more unable to meet his eyes. "…this crazy idea took form that, maybe, this could be possible for me, too..."

All Logan could do was sit and stare, his mouth opening and closing in a silent "Wow".

Unsure how to read his silent reaction – was it only astonished surprise or was it… amusement? – Max gave in to the urge to explain her motives, talking fast, hurried. "It's not like I'm obsessed and want to spend the rest of my life searching for Lydecker and company. It just would be nice to see they didn't get away with it…" Her voice trailed off, thoughtful. Then, in a grave, wistful note she added, "To know they can't do it over and over again to those who are still there… right now." Seeing he was about to reply, she preceded him in speaking out loud the only possible reply to her foolish fantasy, preferring to hear it out of her own mouth. "It's okay, Logan. I know it's not possible. No justice for chimeras. But… you asked…"

Logan indeed had been about to say something, albeit with exactly the contrary intention. But after a moment of absent pondering, he had to concede that in this case Max was right. Even he, with his widespread Eyes Only connections, couldn't help Max with this one. Anything he would do would only risk her exposure, make things worse. Probably, it would draw Manticore's attention to Seattle, where for the first time she had a relatively normal existence. It would force her to leave Seattle, where she was with him. There was nothing he could do without bringing danger to Max and her siblings. It was ironic. He had helped countless people over the years, had come up with money, documents, fake identities – but, when it came to the person who counted most, he was powerless. The biting contrast of first coercing Max to admit her most secret dreams, and then being unable to help her realize them, made Logan cringe, brows drawn together, hands fiercely gripping the rims of his wheels.

Seeing how her words had thrown him into a gloomy mood, Max back-pedaled. "Sorry to have you dragged into my weird fantasies. Didn't want to spoil the mood." She shrugged again, and, with a nonchalant "I'm starving," strode over to the waiting wok with a studiedly careless gait.

Max's hasty retreat snapped Logan out of his faraway brooding and, after a second of staring blankly at her disappearing back, he wheeled after her, hurriedly, to reach her before this open atmosphere was gone and she was alone again with the depressing facts of her life. Grabbing her wrist with one hand, he brought the chair to an inelegant stop with the other, almost skidding the footrest into her ankles. "Max…Forget dinner."

Upon feeling his hand wrapping around forearm she had stiffened and, only half turning, now gazed down to him, still maintaining her tough soldier appearance – but, to him, she looked rather like an abandoned child.

Voice hushed, soothing, his eyes seeking contact with hers, Logan tried to assure her. "I feel honored you shared, and consider me trustworthy enough to know about your childhood." Somewhere in the back of his mind an annoying little voice mocked him that Max's confessions hadn't come entirely voluntarily, that he'd forced her into saying something she wasn't comfortable with. But it was too late for self-recrimination. And anyway, right then that didn't matter. In this moment, the only important thing was to make her feel better, however limited his possibilities might be. Suddenly very aware that he was still holding Max's wrist, Logan wavered a bit, but then tugged at her arm in order to make her sit down in his lap. Abandoning the safe distance normally held between them like a shield against emotional damage was a risk Logan wouldn't have taken under normal circumstances, yet, in this instant, opening up a bit himself was the least he owed her. And it seemed that, for Max, this wasn't an ordinary moment either, as she complied readily with his wordless request and, although somewhat stiffly, settled on his lap.

"Max… hearing that you think so highly of Eyes Only..." he hesitated, hoping the warmth he felt wasn't visible on his face, "...of me…that's by far he best thing anybody has told me in a very long time. And don't you see, it shows that Manticore didn't succeed. Despite all they did to you, you turned out to be a caring, compassionate human being. You have every reason to consider solely your own needs – and nevertheless, you're looking out for those around you. And not only are you helping your friends, you're even caring for complete strangers. You were willing to risk your freedom to save Sophy." A short pause to make sure his next words had the wanted effect. "You can be proud of yourself, Max. I _am_ proud of you."

His little speech ignited a tiny smile, provoked a timid nod. Then, in a gesture which Logan wasn't sure was Max seeking comfort or avoiding the too close proximity of their faces, she turned her head to lean against his shoulder. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her lithe form, for a minute focusing only on the sensation of her chest rising and falling against his. A deep-drawn breath, then the rhythmic pattern of up and down stopped, as if she intended to say something. And he'd been right – in a whisper, only audible because her face was mere inches away from his, Max finally released all the upsetting worries, insecurities – and dreams – that usually were concealed so convincingly by her façade as the confident, reckless bike-messenger.

"Logan… I don't want to be their subject anymore." The lost sound in her voice made him tighten his embrace, for a fleeting second wishing for functional legs so he could rock her back and forth like the little child she was right now, without having to release her. "I don't want to hide anymore, I want to live in the open, have the same rights than everybody else." A sigh – or was it a sob? –was stifled in his sweater before she amended "I want to have the free choice of what do to with my life."

Gently stroking his thumb over her back, Logan suddenly understood how difficult his question had been for her. Hearing Max's story in all its bleakness had made him realize how different the worlds they had come from had been. He had grown up in wealth and abundance, with all possibilities open, whether it was about choosing a profession or where to live. He'd taken it for granted, never giving much thought about how privileged he was – until the moment the Pulse had destroyed all those basic advantages of their granted lifestyle. But even now, with the military government watching one's every step, there still were traces of pre-Pulse life left, especially if you belonged to the upper crust. And while it was true that both of them had a secret identity, he had chosen his, had decided to become Eyes Only on his own volition. For her, there never had been a choice. She never had experienced what it was like to be a careless teenager, just living from one day to the next without worrying about the next meal or staying under the radar. What for him only had been the precondition for his question posed to her – the mere possibility to be or do anything at all – was _in itself_, for Max, her dream life.

Thinking about what she had just told him, Logan couldn't blame her for feeling hatred, contempt, even fantasies of vengeance for those who had made her childhood the living hell. Of course, it was in no way the reply he'd expected to hear. And he still wanted to know what kind of profession she would choose, thrilled at the idea what she, with all her extraordinary abilities, could achieve. But he had to respect the fact that, at this point of her life, she didn't have these answers. Knowing her reality, she hadn't wanted to dream about something that seemed so utterly unattainable.

There wasn't much Logan could do about this. He couldn't undo her past, nor had he the power to go after Manticore without risking Max. But at least he could give her what she'd lacked for all of her life: Understanding, acceptance, friendship – a shoulder to lean on. Comfort in the most basic form of human contact and soothing words.

With this in his mind Logan spoke, after another long moment of silence. "You are no subject, Max." _You are the most amazing, valuable person I ever met._ "And one day Manticore will go down, and then I'll find every single person that hurt you or your siblings." Logan knew it was pathetic to sit here and make empty promises which, with all the odds standing against her, he never would have the chance to fulfill. However, although both of them knew it was highly unlikely that his vow would ever come true, the mere fact that he was here, caring about who she was and how she felt, seemed enough to give Max some peace. Relieved, Logan registered how Max relaxed against his chest, her breathing becoming deep and even. And so he continued spinning his fairy-tale for her. "I will make it known to the whole world what they have done to helpless little children, and then they'll spend the rest of their lives in jail."

His response was met with silence, albeit one very different from the tension-laden atmosphere earlier, only their soft, slow breaths audible in the otherwise quiet penthouse.

Their peace only lasted for a short moment though. With a noisy grumble Max's stomach decided to announce its need for fuel, making her jump up from his lap and back into reality.

"You weren't joking about being hungry" he teased, belatedly gazing up from the now empty spot in his lap, where her contours still were marked by his outstretched arm lingering in the air, just a split second slower than her retreating form.

"You should know that by now." A tentative grin appeared as she tested the waters, unsure where the last hour had left them.

"Now, that I can fix." Snapping off his brakes Logan, moved in the direction of the recently abandoned food. A part of him felt sorry, saddened that this intimate moment was over – but at the same time, he knew that this wasn't the time for more, that both of them weren't ready to move on… yet…

At his response, her hesitating smirk had broadened into a wide, heartfelt smile. "I knew there was a reason I keep you around." It was an answer that was so very much like the normal, street-wise Max, Logan couldn't help letting out a short, relieved laugh.

And so they went back to prepare dinner, back to their old pattern of easy banter and hinted emotions, of safety and denied feelings. Yet there was something else in this so familiar, casual teasing – maybe in his pensive look that lasted a bit longer than necessary, maybe in the trace of seriousness tinting her flippant retort – that spoke of another, hidden conversation taking place, one that was made up of Max's silent _"Thank you..."_

….and of his answer, of course: _You are welcome, Max. You are welcome. _


	9. BlueAngel137: Dreams and Other Oddities

AN: It's been ages since the challenge was started, but Shy said there is no time limit … so here's my response. Hope you enjoy.

Thanks to Shy for her (hard) work on the chapter and for her helpful suggestions.

E/N: Thanks, Blue, for resurrecting this story! And you win the prize for finally giving Logan the sort of answer he thought he wanted... :)

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_He hadn't wanted to make this an issue, or upset her, but his work was so important to him, defined for himself who he was, that he'd been struck by the sudden awareness of Max's lack of freedom to make such a choice for herself – and his apparent failure to even consider it before. "Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"_

_Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak..._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Dreams And Other Oddities**

"To be honest, Logan, I really love what I'm doing right now," Max finally admitted, her face serious with certainty.

At Logan's shocked expression, a soft smile graced her features and she shook her head. "No, not working for Normal, delivering packages every day, but hey, there are worse jobs that have to be done. A lot of people don't even have a job at all ... and you said so yourself, the job brings some freedom for me in this city and as a nice bonus it keeps me fit … but still, that's not what I meant."

Logan wrinkled his brows in confusion, not really getting what she wanted to tell him, but very keen to find out.

Max smiled; suddenly having a softness about her that had her look very young, very vulnerable and Logan felt a pang of awe. Max was letting her defenses down … she was letting him in. She wasn't masquerading with that cool, smart-ass façade of hers, he realized. The 19 year old girl that sat in front of him was Max – pure Max.

"I really love children," she said. "Maybe it's because of my own fucked up childhood or something … I dunno, but I really have a soft spot for kids, and I have always the need to protect them." She paused, her mind suddenly elsewhere, and then added softly: "It was the same with Lauren Bregenza. I couldn't let her down, knowing Sonrisa's thugs had Sophie. I knew I was getting myself into trouble … I thought Lydecker would surround the building and try to box me in, but I just wanted those guys to pay and get the girl out. And seeing her back in her mother's arms was probably the best thing I've ever experienced."

Once again her dark eyes bore into his and the silence that hovered between them was heavy with unspoken words. Logan swallowed. He didn't dare say anything; he just wanted her to keep speaking. _Is that really the same girl that asked me if I was insane when I begged her to help just a few months ago?_

"I always thought there could be a day, when Lydecker stopped searching." She shook her head in disbelief at her own naivety, averting her eyes. "Okay … that's never going to happen … and even if Lydecker retires one day, there will be others to do the job." A tiny trace of sadness crept into her voice, but she brushed it away and smiled again.

It was the kind of smile that lit a room, a smile you wanted to return, a smile that made your heart swell with silent happiness. It tugged at Logan's lips and he suddenly felt lightheaded and almost awestruck, staring at the beautiful young woman in front of him.

"I allowed myself to daydream, just a couple of months ago, and thought if there was a time in the future when I'd be really free and nobody was looking for me, I'd really love to work with children." The smile faded and Max looked almost shy, unsure if speaking her dream aloud would get back at her, biting her in the ass. (How could she dare to think about stuff like that? How could she dare to speak those words aloud?)

"A teacher?" Logan asked softly, feeling that Max needed some encouragement.

She grinned. "Oh my god, no, I don't think I would be a very good teacher. Patience isn't my strongest suit, remember?"

"Then what?" Logan's green eyes twinkled, challenging her.

Max drew a breath and then spoke in a rush, surprising even herself. "Icouldimagine beingapediatrician."

It took Logan some time to realize the meaning of her quickly spoken words, and when her words finally sunk into his confused brain it was already too late, she was drawing back, pulling the walls up again.

"I know it's dumb … who would want a genetically engineered super soldier to treat his children … I'm a warrior, a fighter, certainly not a doctor."

"Max!" Logan called out in protest. "It's a beautiful idea … and you are not just a soldier."

"No?" Her defenses were safely back in place, her face an indifferent mask again, hiding her emotions. But the thing that shocked Logan most was the hard, uncompromising gleam of her eyes. He knew it was just a façade, built up in self protection, and he knew she'd had no other choice than to mask her emotions for the first nine years of her life, but it made him incredibly sad all the same. And all he wanted was to make her feel better.

"Just having those dreams makes you an admirable person." He tried to soothe her. "**IF** you were really a soldier in the first place you'd have never agreed to help me with Eyes Only, not even for the chance of finding your siblings."

Logan leaned forward and caught her eyes, urging her to believe him. "You are a wonderful person, Max. You've already helped a lot of people, without regard for the potential consequences to you. You have endangered your own safety for people you haven't even met before, and you were willing to risk your life for total strangers. You risked your life for **me**." He paused and then added with certainty: "That makes you special. Don't think you're a bad person, someone who's not allowed to dream, just because some damn scientists and a misguided government agent want you to be their toy soldier."

Max wavered. She had to admit it felt good to have someone in her strange little life who thought she was a good person, damn good. It was even better, knowing that someone was Logan, and a small part of her wanted to believe him so badly.

_But you are a soldier_, taunted a mean voice inside her. _You are not the girl next door and you could never live the white-picket-fence, town-house-suburban-life, even if Manticore ever stopped looking for you. You'd always need the danger, always search for a kick … a pediatrician? Pah, you'd die from boredom._

Max blinked, pushing the annoying thoughts into the back of her mind and focused at the emerald eyes in front of her.

"Sometimes I think it wasn't right that we escaped from Manticore." Her voice sounded small and her eyes told Logan that her mind had once again wandered off to another time. He asked himself skeptically if it was really a blessing for Max to have a photographic memory, or if it wasn't rather a curse.

"When we tried to free Brin, Lydecker said I remember Manticore through a child's eyes … and that I could always come _home_."

Logan felt anger bubble up inside him and an overwhelming, irrational fear, but he fought desperately to remain calm. He needed to keep his calm, for her … for the both of them.

"Max, the man probably has had more psychological training than the whole staff of a psychiatric facility put together. He's working with highly intelligent soldiers on a daily basis and he is just trying to manipulate you."

Logan didn't believe Max actually considered going back to Manticore, but somehow his urging her to talk about her hopes and dreams had brought old fears and insecurities that had been buried deep inside her into bright daylight. He berated himself for being so insistent.

"It's okay, Logan." Max said, sensing his discomfort. The tiny smile that crept over her face vanished as fast as it had appeared, but her eyes kept their soft, intense gleam. "Being Eyes Only's field officer isn't such a bad choice either, ya know?"

Logan smiled and their eyes met again in silent understanding. "Then it's all good, huh?" He quoted Herbal's everlasting mantra, lifting his eyebrows.

"Wouldn't go that far ..." Max grinned and nodded in the direction of the huge window, overlooking the broken city, "… still a lot of work to make this town a better place."

"Yeah."

They sat silently for a couple of seconds until Max finally spoke again. "For the first time in my life I really have the feeling I'm doing something useful. It's good to finally have a way to use my talents. … And I'm glad you've been so persistent when you wanted me to help."

Logan smiled. "So it isn't just a quid pro quo any more?" He asked the question casually, not willing to admit how much her answer meant to him.

"Nah." Max said firmly, shaking her head. She shrugged and then added with a pout, abruptly changing the topic: "Thought you promised me a meal ... one of your first class culinary miracles?"

"Okay, okay." Logan grinned, easily seeing through her evading tactic, but deciding to play along. "I admit I'm pretty hungry myself." To verify his statement his stomach growled loudly.

Max giggled. "The famous, extraordinary Eyes Only, starving in front of a heap of food because of a what-if discussion with a chimera – wouldn't that be a great headline for the boulevard press?"

Logan tilted his head to one side, smiling widely. He took the filet of pork Bling had managed to score for him at the market from the fridge and laid it on the island counter. He put a big, heavy wok on the stove and heated the oil, using the time it needed to get hot to cut up the pork and then spiced it with salt and pepper, while Max's eyes attentively followed every move.

"You think Eyes Only is extraordinary, huh?" The man dived into one of his kitchen cupboards to search for a fitting saucepan for the rice, hiding his embarrassment. _You think **I'm** extraordinary?_ An annoying voice added euphorically inside him, causing the red on his cheeks to deepen.

Now it was Max, who tilted her head to one side. A witty retort waited already on her tongue, but as she saw him, rummaging furiously through the cupboard, the answer died in her throat.

"Logan?" She sounded a bit concerned, since his head had been in the kitchen cupboard for quite some time now.

"Uh huh."

"Need some help in there?"

"Ahem," the dark blonde spiky hair came into Max's field of vision again. "No."

A saucepan with a glass cover was presented triumphantly as if it was a Wimbledon cup.

"Wow," Max couldn't help but utter. She nodded appreciatively, left hand on her hip and then added with enthusiasm: "It's suuuch a beauuutiful pot."

They shared a wide grin.

Logan filled the sauce pan with water and placed it on the stove, turning the heat on.

"Max," the smile was replaced by a sincere expression, as he searched her eyes again, one hand still on the knob of the stove. "It's great to have you on board. … But if you ever decide you wanna do something else … if you really wanna go for studying medicine, which would be a great choice in my opinion, please tell me and I'll do anything I can to support you."

"Yeah." Max nodded.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Logan smiled relieved, feeling a sudden rush of happiness race through his body. So … the evening would turn out okay after all. He put some salt into the water and tossed the pork into the wok. The room was filled with the loud sizzle of the oil and his mouth got watery with anticipation.

It wasn't likely that Max really decided to go for it and study medicine, but still, if he gave her some time to think about it, there was a tiny chance she'd change her mind.

_A pediatrician,_ he thought, _wow …that's a great choice._


	10. SimR: Help the Helpless

_**Editor's note:**__ It has been a long time since we had an entry to this challenge, and my thanks to Sim-r for bringing a new response! To catch everyone up on how this works: **Chapter 1 is the set-up, and each succeeding chapter is a response to the question Logan poses to Max in that chapter. **_To follow Sim's story in full, read chapter 1 then come back here to read her response.

Thanks for reading, everyone, and Sim – thanks for joining in!!

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_**Help the Helpless**_

**By Sim-r**

Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money, not even my idea this time.

Many thanks going out to Shywr1ter, for giving out this challenge in the first place and putting up with late entries.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"_**Max..." He leaned forward, catching her eyes, his voice softening to urge her reflection. "If you could be or do anything at all, no matter the training or the risk or the cost – complete dream life, no holds barred – what would it be?"**_

_**Max looked up at the steady gaze before her, waiting for her response. After long moments, again reminded that this was Logan who was asking, who really cared what she answered, she relented, and drew a breath to speak...**_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"You really wanna know what I'd like to do?"

"Of course."

"It's no big dealio, really."

"It is if it matters to you, Max. C'mon; tell me what you'd do if it could be anything."

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he swore, with a smile.

She took a deep breath. "I'd... like to do something to help homeless kids. Maybe open a shelter or something. You know, give them food to eat and a warm place to sleep. Maybe a few classes while they're there, self-defense, math, languages, vehicle mechanics, IT skills. Something that'll help them find jobs when they're older. Of course, I'd probably just be training up Normal's next generation of bike messengers, but..."

"Not necessarily, Max," said Logan, a smile creeping over his features. "I think you could do pretty much anything you set your mind to. I should have guessed it'd be something to do with children. You have a real soft spot for them."

"So I like kids; so what?" She said defensively. "It'll never happen anyway; just a pipe dream. Now are you gonna feed a female or just interrogate her all night?"

Some time later, Logan rolled his wine glass between his long fingers and then broached the subject again. "You know, Max, if you really wanted to go ahead with this shelter idea, it's not as impossible as you think."

"Are you still on about that? Logan, it's a stupid fantasy. Everyone has them, even transgenic killing machines."

"Killing machines don't fantasize about helping people, Max; human beings do. Don't put yourself down; you'd never have agreed to help me out with Eyes Only if there wasn't a part of you that really wanted to make things better."

"As I recall, I didn't agree until you offered me something in return."

"Yeah, and since then I haven't found even one of your siblings and yet you're still hanging around here."

"Girl's gotta take advantage of hot showers and free food whenever they come along." She instantly regretted her harsh words as soon as they left her mouth. "Look, I didn't mean that. Just... leave it alone, ok?"

"Why does having dreams scare you so much, Max?" he asked softly, true concern written across his handsome features as he leaned towards her.

"It's not the dreams I'm afraid of, Logan," she almost whispered. "It's the nightmares. Suppose I managed to do it, and I had a dozen kids relying on me. What would I do when Lydecker's men busted the door down and started shooting? He wouldn't care who got caught in the crossfire, and their deaths would be down to me. My fault, because I settled down, stopped moving, made commitments. You of all people should understand that I can't take that risk."

"Yeah, Max, I understand. I really do. But... some things are worth taking risks for. If you spend your whole life scared of being happy, because someone can take it away from you, you let them win. They've taken the most important thing you'll ever have."

"What do you dream about, Logan? What are you afraid the bad guys'll steal from you?"

A fleeting panic showed in his eyes before he could cover it. "This isn't about me," he said, levelly. "Besides, they've already taken quite a bit. I just meant that if you really want to beat Lydecker you have to be prepared to forget him, stop the fear of Manticore controlling your life."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't there."

"No, I wasn't. But I do know a thing or two about letting other people run your life for you, and it's hollow and empty and constricting. If anyone deserves to be free, Max, it's you. Don't give up on your dreams before you've dreamt them."

Gazing into his eyes, Max just started to allow herself to hope that maybe someday, anything and everything would be possible.

A few days later, Max was just hanging out with Original Cindy, ignoring Normal's increasingly frantic bipping, when her pager went off.

"That your squeeze again, Boo?" OC asked, seeing her smile at the device.

"For the last time, Cindy, Logan and me are not like that," Max replied, exasperated.

"Mmm hmm. And Original Cindy goes over to the dark side on weekends."

"You do?" asked Sketchy hopefully.

Max left them arguing and went to call Logan.

"Hey, me hittin' you back," she said.

"Hey, Max. Listen, could you get a delivery over in sector four in the next hour or so?"

"Sure; what's the dealio?"

"You'll find out when you get there." He read out an address.

"What's all this about?" Asked Max suspiciously.

"It's a surprise."

"What kind of a surprise?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He hung up.

Max stalked back over to her friends, her annoyance obvious as she dropped back into her seat.

"What is it with men and secrets?" she demanded. "They always have to make everything into a big old mystery all the time."

"What did he do now, Boo?" Asked Cindy, rolling her eyes.

"Gave me a really cryptic coded message about meeting him in sector four. I mean, if he'd just say what he wanted..."

"Maybe it's just a booty call," said Sketchy, unwisely. He received the full force of Max's legendary death glare. "Or maybe, you know, he's got a present for you or something."

"Well whatever it is, I'm not going," said Max firmly, settling back in her chair. OC began to count under her breath. She'd reached five before her friend rose and marched towards the front desk.

"Normal! What do you have in sector four?"

Max made her delivery and then stopped off at the address Logan had given her. It was a small apartment building in sunny yellow brick, with the Aztec parked right outside. Other than that, there was no indication that it was anything out of the ordinary at all. Cautiously, she made her way inside.

The first thing she heard was the sound of laughter, children playing. She moved further into the lobby, following the sound while keeping her own movements silent and catlike. Cautiously, the X5 peered around a doorway to see a crowd of children of all ages playing a loud and enthusiastic game she didn't recognize. It mostly seemed to consist of running from one side of the room to the other as fast as possible. There in the middle was an older woman of about forty; the kind that would look right at home in a commercial for Mom's apple pie. She was calling out instructions to the children, apparently directing them as to where to run next. Max watched in fascination for a few minutes: was this what childhood was supposed to look like?

The transgenic was finally distracted from her observations by the sound of voices coming up behind her, one a stranger, the other deeply familiar.

"... Thank you so much for helping us get the computer back up and running, Logan," gushed a grateful and excessively feminine voice. "If it wasn't for your generosity we'd've gone under years ago."

"It's nothing, really, Helen," Logan replied, sounding slightly embarrassed by her enthusiasm. "It was only a software glitch; probably would have sorted itself out on its own in a few days."

"But it's only thanks to you that we even have the building, and the kids love that computer. Those lessons you gave Corey really helped him, and he's been teaching the others after he gets home from work."

"It wasn't a problem; Corey's a good kid who's had a hard time. I just hope Max can make it over; maybe I should give her another call..."

"Or, you can tell me why you called me out of work to come here," said Max, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Logan's face lit up when he saw her; for a moment, Max forgot that she was supposed to be annoyed with him. Then she noticed the attractive young blonde at his side and decided to remember in a hurry.

"Max! You made it. Helen, this is my very good friend Max." The X5 couldn't help but notice that the other woman's smile dimmed a bit at the introduction. "Max, this is Helen; she runs the center with her mother Lynn."

"Hey. Nice place." Max turned back to Logan. "So, wanna explain exactly why we're here?"

"I heard about this place through the grapevine a few years ago; a property developer was ready to just turf out all the kids and turn it into offices. So, I made a few calls; in the end I bought the building. And I make the odd donation every now and then, sort out the ancient computer in the classroom, that kind of thing. I thought maybe you'd like to help out too, you know, in your spare time. Helen tells me they need a vehicle mechanics teacher."

Max looked incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"It's not a problem if you don't have much time to give us, Max," said Helen with a smile. "Around here, we take all the help we can get. And if you don't think you're cut out for teaching, there are plenty of other ways you can help. Let me show you around..."

Max followed Logan and Helen on the full guided tour of the building. The blonde woman chattered on, showing Max exactly what took place in every room. They saw the nursery for the youngest children, medical station, classroom, kitchens, dormitories, and the small private suites for mothers and children to live together. The women contributed by giving part of their wages to Lynn and helping out with the orphans in exchange for free childcare while they worked, no rent and a safe hiding place; many had fled abusive husbands.

"...We're all really just one big happy family," Helen finished, as they reached the lobby once more.

"It's a lovely place, Helen," said Max, a hint of wistfulness in her tone. "Wish I'd run into something like it ten years ago."

"Since the pulse, all the women's shelters and orphanages have either closed down or turned into forced labor camps," Helen replied sadly. "Mom and I were in one when it happened. After it closed, we were on the streets until we found this place. We were squatters, of course, but Mom's always been a giving person. She started taking in kids off the street, other women in her situation; we've grown into a real commune. Even our alumni stay in touch, make donations when they can. And Logan's done so much for us, of course." Max's eyes narrowed as the blonde laid an overly familiar hand on his shoulder, and then noticed her watch. "Oh! Is that the time? I have to go start the kids' dinner. Hope I see you again soon, Logan, and you too, Max, of course." She bustled off, leaving the pair alone.

"So," said Logan. "What d'you think?"

"You, Logan Cale, have been holding out on me."

"I take it that means you approve?"

"It's just like I imagined," Max confessed shyly. "There's real good being done here, Logan; thank you for proving to me that it can be done."

"You can help, you know, Max. These kids won't be relying on you alone; you'll still be at Jam Pony, and helping me out every now and then. The whole place is completely off the books to keep ex-es from finding it; I secured it myself, so the chances of Lydecker tracing you here are astronomical. I know it's not exactly what you had in mind, just helping out instead of running the whole place, but it's the best I can do, for the moment."

Max met his brilliant blue-green eyes, seeing his anxiety, the tension that she might decide to refuse this gift he was giving her, her wildest dreams on a plate. Well, perhaps not the wildest; in those, he was working at her side, cooking for the children, teaching them to play basketball, being her partner, in every way.

Her own chocolate eyes overly bright, the X5 leaned down to hug the paraplegic, feeling Logan's arms encircle her shoulders with a strength that had nothing to do with muscles.

"Your best is more than enough, Logan," she whispered. "Much more."

The couple separated, Max wiping surreptitiously at her eyes. She smiled suddenly. "Thanks," was all she said, the single world conveying a world of gratitude.

"You're welcome," Logan replied, his lips twitching into a smile he couldn't have contained if he wanted to. "You wanna go check out places you could set up your machine shop?"

"Actually I was thinking the abandoned parking lot at the back. Maybe we could rig up a garage; you know, some two by fours and sheet metal..."

"Sheet metal? In Seattle? The kids'll never hear your lessons over the rain drumming off the roof. I think there's some leftover timber and drywall in the basement from when we had the renovations done..."

Lynn smiled as the pair headed off to check out the contents of the basement. Admittedly she'd only understood half the conversation, but she had no doubt that Max and Logan were made for each other.

I'm happy for them, she thought. Logan needs a woman in his life to keep an eye on him. And after all he's been through he deserves some happiness. Helen's going to be disappointed, though; she's had a crush on him for years. Ah, well, she'll get over it. Now, I need to go hang out the laundry...

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_So, any thoughts? Opinions? Suggestions for what they should make the garage out of?_


End file.
